By Might
by Sincere Nonsense
Summary: He had no name, no memories. The world around him was dark and harsh, full of suffering and injustice, and there was no hope of survival for him or for those who labored alongside him. But he wasn't going to lie down and give up. He wasn't going to let things continue the way they were. He was going to change them, by whatever means necessary.
1. Fear of the Dark

Notes:

1\. This is my origin story for Megatron (at least part of it. ;)) Since there's not really that much interaction between this story and my other stories, it technically stands alone, but there are some heavily implied spoilers for Many Voices, and it will have more impact if you've read at least through chapter 69 of that. Just warning you.

2\. Another warning: This story has some violent/unpleasant stuff in it, including fighting, torture, death, etc. And, just like in Quantum, the main character doesn't always make good decisions.

3\. That said, I hope you like it. It's been one of my favorite things to write so far.

* * *

His systems booted up slowly—as if they hadn't in a long time. Someone was screaming in the distance. A nagging in the back of his processor told him he needed to get up because someone was in trouble and he needed to help. He needed to help…

His optics came online, and he cycled a vent full of choking, grinding dust. He coughed and got to his knees, still coughing, and got up, still coughing.

And then he realized he didn't know where he was, or how he had come to be there, or why it was so dark.

He did not know his designation.

His first instinct was to panic, but he fought back the fear and looked around, trying to make sense of things instead. Everything was dark, and there was dust in the atmosphere, and there were others around him, lying still.

He looked down at his hands and the light from his optics illuminated them. He needed to do something… something he couldn't remember. He shuttered his optics and was shocked when he could no longer see, so he opened them again, fighting off panic a second time. He needed to figure out… who he was. Or maybe where he was. Which was more important?

That noise in the distance was still there. He wasn't really sure what it meant, but it felt wrong somehow, and he wanted to stop it. He took a step forward and tripped over something. It moved and something grabbed him.

"Get off…" the thing he'd tripped over grumbled, and yanked on his leg, bringing him crashing down to the ground.

"Shut up!"

"What the frag?"

He got up again, and backed away. He didn't understand what they were saying, but he could tell they weren't happy he'd… why had they been lying on the ground anyway?

"Go back to recharge, or I'll put you there permanently," a pair of optics glared at him.

He sat down, still trying to figure out what was going on. That wasn't just random sounds, was it? It was _language._ This thing was talking to he didn't understand what it had said to him, only that it had been angry.

Had he done something wrong?

Looking back, he realized he could remember everything he'd done since waking up with clarity. There was nothing before that, though. He looked down at himself, but it was too dark to see just by the light of his optics.

The screaming stopped. Good, something had stopped it, and now he didn't need to go do something about it so badly.

He waited for whatever was going to happen next, all the while trying to figure out why he was here, wherever here was.

* * *

Light blinded his optics for a moment, before he figured out how to turn their sensitivity down. A small, stinging pain lingered behind them for a few moments. It was his first taste of pain. He decided he didn't like it very much.

"Everymech up! Shift starts in two breems!"

The nameless mech looked around, surprised when everyone got up almost at once. What was going on?

"I said get up!" one mech approached him. There was something different about this one. He was a different color, the nameless mech realized. Everyone else was all scratched up and dull gray, but this one was blue.

"Get up!"

It took the nameless mech too long to react when the other mech's pede swung out and kicked him, sending him flying. He gasped when the pain from the crumpled plating on his arm hit his processor, but something kept him from crying out.

The attacker came toward him again, and the nameless mech scrambled up and backed away. The blue mech shook his helm with a scowl and turned to walk away, much to the nameless mech's relief.

Everyone seemed to be going somewhere. The nameless mech wasn't sure whether he should follow, but he didn't want to be alone, so he moved with the herd.

He was different too. He was brown and white, for the most part, though there were scratches here and there that showed dull gray underneath. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

They left the room and went out into a wide passageway with jagged walls. The nameless mech stared in wonder at the tunnel stretching before him. Did it go on forever? It was different from the cave they'd been in before. He slowed down and reached out to touch the wall, but was shoved forward by someone behind him. He stumbled, but stayed on his pedes and kept moving forward. Apparently, he wasn't supposed to stop.

Just as he thought this, the line slowed down. He wasn't ready for it so he bumped into the mech in front of him, which earned him a threatening growl. Getting too close to anyone seemed to be an offense. The nameless mech resolved to avoid it in the future.

The line progressed slowly, and the nameless mech didn't see what was going on until he got near the front. A bored-looking femme stood off to the side with a rolling cart, handing small glowing glass cubes to everyone as they walked by. One or two muttered what were certainly words as they accepted their cubes. The nameless mech wondered why some said them and some didn't.

"Thank you."

The mech in front of him didn't say it, and he wasn't sure whether or not he should. He clumsily accepted the cube, and was pushed forward from behind when he tried to stop.

It was made of some sort of smooth, clear material, and the blue glow was a liquid inside the crystal container. The nameless mech stared at it for a few moments as he walked, barely recognizing that it smelled good before someone else snatched it from his hands.

He looked up as the other mech grinned at him, and then tilted his helm back and poured the contents past his own lip plates. The nameless mech stared, confused.

Had he done something wrong? He looked back at the line just in time to see a smaller mech receive his cube and sprint away, trying to drink it as he ran. Several others converged on him, trying to take it, and the cube fell to the floor of the tunnel, where it bounced, spilling the last of its contents.

The blue mech who'd attacked the nameless mech earlier pulled out some sort of glowing rope and approached the pile. He swung the rope a few times and shouted, and the mechs dispersed, leaving the small one huddled on the ground, licking glowing blue liquid off of his fingers.

Something struck the nameless mech—in his spark he knew something wasn't quite right, but he wasn't sure what it was. He tried to assign something about the situation to it, and couldn't—not having any other experiences to compare this one to.

When the whole line had come through, the blue mech stepped forward.

"All right, team gamma five, you're in drilling and debris removal this orn. Get moving."

Everyone started walking again, and the nameless mech hurried to go with them. He didn't care really where they were going next as long as he could escape the wrongness of that pile on top of the small mech, and the empty cube dripping on the floor.

They put their empty cubes in a bin that sat by the side of the room. Since the nameless mech no longer had one, he couldn't. He felt like there was something wrong with that too.

But then again, the blue mech hadn't taken any. Maybe it was because he was a different color, and wasn't supposed to have it.

But if he was different, why was he just moving among the group? Wouldn't they pull him out and explain to him what he ought to be doing? Or had they tried? Did they know he couldn't understand?

They got onto a platform, and the nameless mech jumped when it started to sink. No one else seemed to care, though a few of them shot him annoyed looks.

Maybe he was misinterpreting that. It seemed everyone gave everyone annoyed looks—were they really annoyed, or did he simply not understand?

Eventually, the platform, which had gone down a long tube, came to a stop at another level, and everyone walked off. The nameless mech did so as well, and followed them. He could hear sounds in the distance now—low, loud rumbling noises that he wasn't certain he liked. But no one else seemed afraid, so he kept going.

They started passing other groups—mechs carrying ragged-edged sheets of metal, and mechs riding transport vehicles piled high with large blue crystalline things. They were a different shade from the liquid they'd been drinking—a deeper blue—and their glowing was a little dimmer.

Then they walked further and the nameless mech got to see what was making the sound. Machines with spinning, ridged cones at the front bored into the solid metal walls, sending sparks and shards of metal flying in every direction. Others crowded around, clearing out the pieces of metal, and dragging piles of it away from the wall for other mechs to load onto low transports, which were taken the other direction from the large transports that carried blue crystals. It was fascinating, but mystifying.

They kept walking until they came to a wide side passage, and went down it. A group of mechs there were drilling into the end of the passageway and moving debris off to the side.

A black and green mech approached, and the blue mech went to converse with him. After a few moments, the black and green mech turned around and shouted something at the mechs working on the wall. The machinery quieted, and that group abandoned it and walked past the group the nameless mech was in. They looked a lot more tired and broken down than the nameless mech's group, which made him feel a little better—he must be in a superior group.

The mechs trudged past. A few of them limped, and several dragged their pedes. They were definitely inferior.

Then the blue mech got out his glowing rope and pointed at the machinery. The nameless mech watched, trying to figure out what was going on as the others in his group moved forward.

"What are you waiting for! Hey, fresh-paint, get going!"

The nameless mech turned to look at the blue one, who was approaching fast, flanked by three others who were all colorful like him.

He had just decided they didn't look pleased with him when the blue rope caught his shoulder. He gasped as something burned through him. The lightning was gone as soon as it had come, but his arm still hurt, and when he looked down at it, he saw several long, shallow scrapes.

"Get in line!" the blue mech said again, pointing at the others. "What is _wrong_ with this mech?"

"Maybe he's got a faulty processor or something. Science experiment gone wrong, memory wipe that fried his CPU, who knows? Or maybe he's just really slow," one of the other colored mechs said.

The nameless mech stared at his arm, waiting for the stinging to stop. He had never felt this much pain before.

Blue liquid pooled in one of the scrapes-the same blue liquid they'd been drinking, though again a slightly different color.

"Go move debris!" the blue mech said again, pointing again at the others. The nameless mech went to join them, following their examples as they gathered pieces of metal into piles on the sides of the tunnel.

Choking dust and little metal fragments clogged his vents, and the sharp edges of the heavier pieces of debris bit into his armor. Before too long his hands were covered with scrapes.

After what seemed like forever, there was an exclamation from somewhere nearby. The nameless mech looked up to see that one of the drills had stopped, and was pulling out of the wall. In the hole it had opened up, he could see blue. Glowing blue.

Everyone converged on the hole, and from compartments in the drilling machines, wagons were unloaded.

It appeared they'd broken into a pocket of crystals. The nameless mech tried to get close enough to see as several others started removing crystals and placing them on the carts, which others dragged away from the wall.

The blue mech shouted and swung the rope. It made a nasty snapping sound. Some of the mechs left the glowing opening and went back to clearing debris. The nameless mech wasn't sure if he should as well, but he probably should be doing _something._

He went back to moving debris, but watched curiously as a large transport came and they started loading blue crystals onto it.

So the question now was why. Were they trying to carve out more hallways, or were they looking for the crystals? The latter seemed more likely. Things started to fall into place. They found the crystals, which became the blue liquid, which became the liquid seeping out of his still-throbbing arm. It must be important, if it hurt so much to lose it. They were providing it for themselves…

No, that couldn't be right. Then they would only need as much mass of crystal as mass of the liquid they'd consumed, and this was already many times as much.

They ran out of debris to clear, and the nameless mech realized they needed the drilling machines to make more debris, so he went to one and tried to climb into it and get it started again.

"Hey! Pretty-paint! Get off of that! What is he _doing?_ He's going to kill us."

The nameless mech didn't pay attention to the voice he could already recognize as the blue mech's.

"You can't run a drill with exposed energon in the area! Tatters, Spill, get him off of there!"

The nameless mech was pulled down from the drill and dragged—wide-opticed—to where the blue mech was standing.

"I can't work with glitched mechs," he said. "Kill him."

"You sure, Spiral?"

"Yes."

They dragged the nameless mech off to the side and blue, glowing ropes seemed to appear from nowhere in their hands. The nameless mech already knew to fear those. They dropped him to the ground and he curled up, arms over his helm, as the first blows fell. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong—obviously getting in that drill had been a mistake.

Barbs tore through his back plating, and plasmatic energon burned through his frame. He screamed. Pain, he realized, could be a lot worse than what he'd experienced so far. It could be far worse than clogged vents and scratched hands.

The barbed whips fell again, and he remembered the screaming from when he had woken up. He heard the screaming again now. This time he understood what it was.

His only consolation was that eventually, it ended.


	2. To Survive

The nameless mech did not know what death was. He had never heard of the Allspark, or the Matrix, or Primus. He did not fear the end of his existence.

But he did fear darkness.

He clung to the light, digging his bruised fingers into the dust on the ground because it was his world, and he was afraid he would lose it if he let go.

Eventually, his screaming stopped, but his pain remained, and if he let himself slip away from the pain, he also let himself slip away from the light. So instead he embraced the agony, fighting the darkness, wondering how long this would go on, if it would ever end.

Then he heard voices. Someone had come.

"Here's another one."

"Pretty big mech, this one… look, he's still got a paint job. Probably rebelled or something. They must have wanted to make an example."

"Whose team is he on? They aren't supposed to scrap the new ones even if they talk back. New ones still have some wear in them. It's bad economics."

"Well, load him onto the carrier, and we'll dump him in with…"

He felt something shift him and the pain doubled. He cried out and struggled weakly. There was a gasp and he was dropped again.

"Primus, this one's still online."

"Well, he won't be for long. Put him on the carrier with the others."

He was lifted. This time, he was lifted and carried, and tossed onto something lumpy, half-propped up. He managed to online his optics, but it took a few moments for them to focus. He was looking into a face… or was he? There was something missing from this. The optics weren't online, but he wasn't sure if that was it. This… this was not another mech, this was lifeless, like the wall or the drilling machines.

He was looking at death.

They had tossed him onto a pile of the dead. Why? He tried to push away, slowly and painfully lifting himself up.

Then there was a jolt as the carrier went around a corner, and he fell off and landed on his shredded back.

The blackness closed in, and this time, he couldn't fight it.

* * *

He onlined again to a sound he had never heard before. The pain was still there, and now he felt a terrifying sort of exhaustion. The darkness had not retreated all the way—he could still feel the fog at the edge of his processor, and the imminent shut-down. He didn't have enough… power. His power was gone. He was weak. He was too weak.

A scarred and rust-spotted faceplate appeared above his. It had bright optics and a grin.

The other mech wheezed with laughter. "'Tis one's still alive," he said. "Hee hee hee. I can't scrap's one an' sellem for parts, he's still online."

The nameless mech tried to get up, but he must have been too weak, because his joints wouldn't lift him.

He felt a little comforted though—this mech seemed a lot more pleasant than anything the nameless mech had encountered so far, and his optics were so bright.

He laughed again. "heeheheheeeee, he's online!"

The nameless mech opened his lip plates, but didn't know what to say. He recalled what some of the others in line had said when they'd been given cubes of blue liquid. If he got some of that, he might be able to get up. He wasn't sure what brought him to that conclusion, but he wasn't thinking straight anyway.

The words were clumsy, and came out sounding all wrong until he'd tried four or five times.

"Than… Thank you."

The other mech wheezed some more. "You're welcome!" he said. "Lost, are you? Let's get you up!"

The mech grabbed his arm and pulled. The nameless mech let out a hoarse, grinding scream as he was yanked into a sitting position. The other mech didn't seem to mind the noise.

"Ooohhh," he said. "Look at t'is here. You should be with t'a Allspark now, shouldn't you? Guess I better send you there. Hee hee, no. I'm feeling all primelike, I won't. heeee hee hee heheeeheehe."

The nameless mech managed to stay in a swaying sitting position. "Thank you."

"You're WELCOME," the other mech shouted, and the nameless mech flinched. "What… hee hee heh… can I do.. hee hee for you?"

The nameless mech stared, unsure if he was being asked a question or given an order.

"Ya hear me in there?"

"Thank you," the nameless mech said, because it was the only thing he knew and so far nothing bad had come from saying it.

"Is t'at the only t'ing you can say?"

Definitely a question. The nameless mech could see it in the other's optics. "Thank you," he said again.

The other mech burst into a fit of uproarious laughter. The nameless mech presumed this was a good thing. He still wasn't sure what the words meant. "Thank you."

"No, no… hee hee hee heeheheeheeeehee, that wo—heheheeeee—won't do."

"Thank you."

"Gotta learn you some real heeeheeheheeheh words hee hee."

Something strange happened then, in the nameless mech's processor. Something that hadn't been there before suddenly _was,_ or… sort of was. It had come from somewhere else… somewhere else… When he examined it, it fed him words. Beautiful, blessed sounds attached to meanings.

Only a few, though. And none of them seemed to mean very pleasant things.

He stared at the laughing mech. "Glitch?" he said.

That sent the mech into another furious gale of wheezing. The nameless mech started to worry about whether he was all right.

Then he frowned. Surely there was more to language than this. He needed to figure out what "thank you" meant, still, and he'd heard them say so many other things. Though he did recognize most of the words he knew now from what he'd overheard so far. These must be the most common ones.

Maybe if he kept trying to talk…

"Thank you."

The mech shook his helm. "Now see… heheheee hehe here, haha, you… have some more! Have more of em we've got heee heeeeeee to build your heheheeha vocabulary."

Then there were more. Some of this second batch of words had come with no definitions, but a few of them weren't useless. He started using what words he had to piece together what some others meant.

He owed this cheerful, laughing mech a lot. Owed him everything. He understood now, at least some of what had been said before, though for the most part he was still unable to decipher what had been happening.

"Heehee…" the mech suddenly trailed off, looking away from him in the darkness. "Did you hear that?"

The nameless mech didn't know what he was talking about.

"There's scraplets in these tunnels," the mech said, then chuckled nervously. "Scraplets and pit spawn and vermin."

The nameless mech followed his gaze but couldn't see anything down the long tunnel.

"Heeheeheehee I seen 'em all right. I seen _him_ too. Megatronus, the thrall of the Chaos-bringer himself, heehee. Tall as a transport, wit' glowing purple optics."

His tone had changed, but the nameless mech still wasn't sure what was wrong.

Then, suddenly, the mech's attention snapped back to him. "What's your heehee designation?"

That had been a question, hadn't it. "Yes?" the nameless mech said, which was one of the few useful words he knew now.

"Heeeheeehehee, you're designation is _yes?_ " The mech said. "Heeheeheehee! You glitched thank-you-er! Heeheeeeheheheheeeeheeehee…"

The nameless mech felt dizzy for some reason. Something was wrong. He heard something in the distance.

He tried to remember what the mech had said before. All of those words. "M-Megatronus," he said.

"heehEEHEEEEEEEheeeeeheee! You! You think your designation is hee hee heeehehehe Mega hehehee Megatronus. Your creators must have been GLITCHED heehee HEHEEEHEE they heheheheeeheheeheHEHEHEE designated you… heee hee heeeeeeehe heheheheheee…"

The nameless mech moaned and slipped forward a little, feeling foggy and ill. There was something wrong with him. Something wrong with him.

"Megatronus!" the laughing mech shouted. "Have a good time in the Allspark, Megatronus! Hee he heeeeehehe. You know who _Megatronus_ is?"

"Hey! You! Identify yourself."

The laughing stopped, and the mech turned and tried to run. The nameless mech watched as a guard ran after him, pulling out a gun. Then he watched as the guard fired, and the mech fell to the ground with a scream, and then lay still.

Then someone was beside him.

"Are you all right? Hey, come look at this one. Is he a guard? He's got a paint job."

"What's going on?"

"I think that mech was offlining a guard."

"Is he offline?"

"No."

"Well the fragger who ran is. Crazy, over-energized looter. Who is this?"

"I don't know. Hey, can you hear me? You?"

"That looks like an energon whip did that to his back. He's probably just a new worker who got lost or something."

"They aren't supposed to do this to the workers while they're still strong. What if it is a guard? And one of the others decided he had to go or something."

"Well, is he even in there. Hello? What's your designation? I think he's about to go into stasis."

"What do we do?"

"I don't know. Drag him to the medbay and see if he survives long enough someone can look at him. That is if he's a guard. If he's a worker, we should just leave him here. The scrap crews will come and pick him up eventually."

"Well, we could just leave him here, and claim we never saw anything at all."

"That sounds like a good plan. He looks like he won't last another joor anyway."

"But if we drag him to the medbay and he turns out to be another guard after all, then we'll have saved his life. We could get something for that."

"Like what?"

"Like he'd owe us for one, and I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind this getting up to one of the captains. You can get promoted for stuff like bravery and rescuing people, even in this pit of a place. I wouldn't mind getting promoted."

The nameless mech slipped into the darkness again.


	3. Words

There were times when he was nearly conscious, and other times when he was just drifting in a black void. There were times when there was pain and times when there was nothing. He heard voices once in a while, snatches of conversation that he couldn't have comprehended, even if he'd been fully online.

Then, with a start, he woke.

"Get up! Move your afts! Shift starts in two breems!"

The nameless mech un-shuttered his optics to find himself in the same cavern he had been in before, with all the others milling around. He tried to get up. Pain and dizziness dragged at him, but he fought his way to his pedes, and was suddenly face to face with the blue mech, who scowled at him. The nameless mech saw hatred for the first time.

"If you give me any more trouble," the blue mech growled, low and threatening, "I vow you'll learn the meaning of pain. You'll wish you were never sparked, you fragging imbecile."

The nameless mech didn't understand all the words, but he understood he was being threatened. If he made this mech angry again, there would be more suffering.

He walked with the others, shuffling stiffly. This time when he got the cube of glowing liquid, he drank it down before anyone could stop him or take it from him. He felt it bring something inside of him to life. Yes, this was power, this was what he had been missing, what he had run low on. This would sustain him...

He stared at the empty cube for a moment and tried to remember what it was that he was supposed to keep going for. Had there been some reason?

He couldn't think of it, but it was clear that he _must_ keep going. He needed to figure out what was going on. He needed to learn all the words that the mecha around him spoke. He needed to discover why things were the way they were.

So he followed. And he listened.

It was hard to move rubble—much harder than the previous time. He had to bend down so often he was sure he could feel his back splitting open. His vents were already clogged, and it just got worse as time progressed.

He was exhausted long before the blue mech called them away from the machines and the rubble and the glowing crystals.

The group headed back the way they came, and retraced their steps all the way to the room they'd begun in. Most of them slumped to the ground and lay still. A few stayed up and talked, though. A small mech, one of the ones who'd had his blue liquid taken from him the first time around, had been injured by one of the drills, and another mech was doing something to the injury. The nameless mech watched, wondering whether he was trying to help, or do further harm.

"Ow."

"Hold still, Rivet. Don't worry, this isn't so bad."

"It hurts."

"I'm sorry. It'll stop leaking in a few breems. Just let me finish patching what I can."

The smaller mech nodded, and held still, and then the larger one backed away, and the open wound had been sealed closed.

The nameless mech saw an opportunity and approached them.

They saw him, and the smaller mech hid behind the larger one, who glared defiantly. "What do you want?" he demanded.

The nameless mech wasn't entirely sure whether that had been a question or a warning, but he turned around and showed his back to them. "Please," he said.

"No," the other mech replied. "Go away."

"Please."

"No!"

"Photodraft, I don't think he wants to hurt us," the smaller mech said. "I think… I think he just wants you to help him."

"No," the larger mech's voice was harsh and ragged. "I can't. I'm not really a medic and I can't waste supplies on anyone else. You know that, Riv."

"He looks like he's really hurt."

"Everyone gets hurt. Go away! I can't help you."

The nameless mech nodded and walked away.

"We're sorry," the smaller mech said quietly. Somehow, though the nameless mech didn't understand the words, he caught the meaning. And he thought he could comprehend, at least why that had gone the way it had.

No one had anything extra here. No one could spare more. The only unusual thing about the encounter had been a certain quality to the mechs' voices—something discordant. It was regret, and it meant… it meant there was something wrong. There was something wrong with those mechs, especially the little one, something different.

He curled up in a corner and slipped into recharge.

And then woke to the blue mech's yelling, though he did not feel even remotely rested.

* * *

The cycle repeated itself again and again. They drilled and gathered crystals and drilled some more. The blue mech seemed to particularly hate the nameless mech for some reason, and took what seemed every opportunity to flick his glowing whip at the nameless mech's injured back.

Then, tired and barely conscious by the time they got back to the cavern where they all recharged, the nameless mech would curl up and slip away into nothingness.

Slowly, his back repaired itself, and the pain lessened. He started to watch and notice the differences between the others, in which ones would say "Thank you" and which ones wouldn't. In which guards would whip you just for fun, and which ones wouldn't.

And then there was the little mech and his larger friend. The nameless mech picked up from paying close attention that they were something called brothers. Their designations were Rivet and Photodraft, and they were different, because they cared. That bothered the nameless mech like nothing else. No one else cared. No one else gave anything up for anyone else. You took what you could and you held tight to it. You drank all your energon—the nameless mech had learned that that was what it was called—and you drank it quickly or someone else would. Rivet had his stolen from him almost every time. Whenever Photodraft tried to intervene, though, the others would push him to the ground too, and by the time the guards came in and broke up the fight, either the energon would be spilled on the ground, or someone else would have taken it.

No, Photodraft knew that was pointless. Saving part of his cube was pointless too, because someone else would take it from him, but the nameless mech had seen him hold the last of it in his mouth, and then take Rivet aside while the others were still in line, and carefully let it trickle down past his smaller brother's lip plates.

The nameless mech did not like this. Something about it was wrong. He wasn't sure what, but each time he saw it happen, his spark hurt. It didn't make sense—Photodraft was foolishly giving up something powerful in order to provide it to someone else.

The wrongness built up inside of him every time the cycle repeated. And then one time he was standing just behind Rivet in line. Rivet took his cube of energon from the femme who was handing them out, and ran. A large mech stepped in front of him, and made as if to grab the cube. Rivet clutched it to himself.

Photodraft had already gotten his cube, and was watching with potent frustration and helplessness in his optics.

Something in the nameless mech snapped. The femme held out a cube for him to take, but he ignored it and leaped at the mech who was trying to take Rivet's energon. He managed not to bump Rivet as he shoved the other mech away. Rivet downed the energon, and the other mech growled and attacked.

The nameless mech blocked, and then used the other mech's own weight to bring him to the ground.

Then the blue mech was there with his whip.

"What are you doing, you fragging glitch!" the tip of the rope caught the nameless mech in the side of the helm, and he collapsed with a cry. "Primus beneath, if you don't stop fighting, I'll offline all of you! If you want to fight, sign up for the fragging gladiator rings!" He kicked the nameless mech in the side. "Get up you useless pile of scrap!"

The nameless mech struggled to his pedes, because he knew it would be worse if he didn't. He wasn't sure why he'd done that, but it had felt… slightly less wrong. He had stopped Rivet from losing his energon. Now Photodraft wouldn't have to give up some of his. The nameless mech hadn't gotten any, though.

That would make things more difficult.

It did.

By the end of that cycle, when they trudged back to their cavern, he was so exhausted he collapsed to the ground as soon as he entered, which blocked up the entryway and resulted in him being stepped on several times.

Then he got up, because he always got up, because if he could force himself to put one pede in front of the other all the way back here, he could force himself to get up and move to his usual spot at the side of the room.

Rivet was waiting for him there, looking a little worried.

The nameless mech sat against the wall, feeling the familiar, almost comfortable pain of his still-healing back.

"Thank you," Rivet said quietly.

The nameless mech looked up. He still wasn't quite sure what that phrase meant. He'd only heard it used after someone had been given energon. He hadn't been aware it was appropriate to use it elsewhere, or in other circumstances.

"Rivet," Photodraft called from across the room, and Rivet left.

The nameless mech looked down, suddenly ashamed of himself, because he hadn't tried to help Rivet before, because he _could have_ and he hadn't. He hadn't even thought about it.

But he wanted that… wrongness that Rivet and Photodraft had. No… no it wasn't wrong. Everything else was wrong. What they had, that was the thing he was missing, the thing he needed, whatever it was that made Photodraft save the energon in his mouth and then give it to Rivet, and be grateful to give it to Rivet. Because whatever it was, it must be more powerful than energon.

He drifted away, wondering what it might be, and whether he'd ever be able to find it.

* * *

He was one of the first in line for energon the next time they were woken up. He downed his quickly, and felt it revive and power him. The bliss of it after a whole cycle without overwhelmed him for a moment, but he didn't have time to bask in it. He hurried to discard the empty cube and went back to stand by the line, waiting with the others who tried to take energon from those they deemed too weak.

Rivet came through the line, and the nameless mech saw that he was watching.

This time, when Rivet got his energon, three others jumped at him, but the nameless mech got in the way. He knocked one down, and sent the second crashing into the third, which bought Rivet enough time to drain the cube and flee to Photodraft, who was staring at the nameless mech with some sort of confusion, and maybe even regret.

The three who'd tried to take Rivet's energon were not pleased. The blue mech came forward with his whip, but he wasn't fast enough, and the nameless mech's enemies converged on him.

For an instant, the nameless mech was perfectly calm and still, and he saw exactly what he needed to do. He knocked the pedes out from one of them, and sent all the power in his frame through his fist into the faceplate of the second. The third missed him and stumbled, and it was only a matter of…

The energon whip flew at him and he ducked, and stepped in close to the blue mech, close enough to grab his arm, and stop him from swinging again.

The blue mech's optics widened in surprise. Then the nameless mech realized what he'd done and released the blue mech. The other guards rushed forward to, but by the time they got there, the blue mech was already raining lashes across the nameless mech's helm and shoulders. The other guards watched for a moment, then pulled him off.

"Remember what they said," one of the other guards—the least dangerous one—said, "If you kill him before the quartex is up, Spiral, you're going to be demoted."

The blue mech glared, but backed away. The nameless mech got up, watching energon drip down his shoulders and feeling it tickle his faceplate.

And he didn't regret it. It felt good—not the pain, but the triumph despite the pain. He stood tall and glared at one of the mechs who had tried to take Rivet's energon. The mech looked afraid. Good. For the first time since he could remember, the nameless mech felt like he was in control. "Never. Again." He said.

He looked around and saw surprise on the faces of the watching workers. They weren't used to hearing him speak.

He made optic contact with several of them, and then got back in line.

His fresh wounds made work painful, and they were caked with dust and rust by the time they got back. He sat down by the wall in his usual spot, and started to wait for the darkness to take him, wishing for recharge and the nothingness it brought with it.

Then light from somemech's optics flashed across his faceplate.

He unshuttered his optics in time to see Photodraft crouch beside him. Rivet was standing just behind his brother, smiling.

"Thank you," Photodraft said. "For helping. I'm not sure why you did it…"

The nameless mech narrowed his optics, trying to work out exactly what Photodraft had said.

"I can clean out those scratches for you if you want. They probably hurt a lot, and they could get infected if you let so much rust and debris get in them."

The nameless mech wasn't really sure what was happening, but Photodraft was speaking calmly, in the same tone he used when Rivet was injured. Was he going to help? But… he'd made it seem like he didn't have the resources.

Photodraft carefully reached up and traced a finger along one of the nameless mech's injuries. The nameless mech bit back a gasp of pain.

"Sorry," Photodraft said. "I don't have anything to give you to control the pain. You can turn your pain grid down, though."

Now that… that had made absolutely no sense. What was Photodraft trying to tell him?

"Ugh," Photodraft said. "I need a rag and some solvent to do this properly. Can you hold still?"

Hold still? Yes, the nameless mech could do that. And he did, while Photodraft used mainly his fingers to clean out the nameless mech's wounds. By the time he was done, the nameless mech could barely keep from crying out, but he held onto his silence, listening intently, because Photodraft was still talking to him.

"I'm Photodraft, by the way, and this is Rivet."

Rivet nodded.

"Good job holding still," Photodraft said. "I've never seen a mech hold that still when I've cleaned out wounds like this… even if you had your pain grid on its lowest setting… sorry it had to hurt so much... What's your designation?"

The nameless mech looked down. Why did everyone have a designation but him? Did they have to pick one? No, their creators came up with them. But the nameless mech had no creators, did he?

He didn't have a designation. But Photodraft was looking at him, expecting something. And he owed this mech, because his wounds already felt more like the clean pain of healing and less like the hot pain of infection.

He didn't have creators, but there had been a mech who had found him barely online in the tunnels and given him a few words, which he had used to deduce the meanings of others. That mech, he could recall, was dead. The nameless mech would take one last thing from him and keep it to remember him by.

"It's ok, you don't have to tell me," Photodraft said.

"Megatronus."

Photodraft and Rivet both looked taken aback.

"My designation… are Megatronus."

"That's…" Photodraft tilted his helm. "Kind of unusual."

The nameless mech, Megatronus, frowned. He wasn't sure what unusual meant. Was it something bad?

"Well," Photodraft said. "Thank you again for helping Rivet. We… I… he looked down, and Megatronus saw bitter guilt on the other mech's faceplate. "I'm so sorry I didn't help you before, when you asked me… It's these mines… no, that's no excuse. I was wrong. I should have helped you, and I'm sorry."

Sorry was what you said when you'd bumped into someone and you didn't want them to be mad at you. Why would Megatronus be mad at the mech who'd just cleaned out his wounds and thanked him for helping Rivet?

"Don't… sorry," Megatronus said.

Photodraft frowned at him. "Are you all right? You used the wrong word before, and that…?"

Which word was wrong? Megatronus looked down, ashamed again.

"Are you from somewhere that speaks another dialect?"

Megatronus had absolutely no idea what that meant. "Don't understand," he said.

"What?"

"Don't understand words," Megatronus repeated.

"You don't understand Cybertronian?"

"Understand little," Megatronus amended.

"Why?"

Now that word, Megatronus had never been able to figure out. It seemed a difficult question, even to those who knew what it meant. "Don't understand," he said again.

"Where are you from? Where were you before here?"

Megatronus stared. Had he understood that correctly? "I… wasn't."

"You weren't… Well, you can't have been sparked here."

Megatronus nodded.

"No," Photodraft said. "That's impossible. You just showed up a couple of decaorns ago. You didn't do anything but stare blankly for the first few orns, but… oh."

Megatronus tried in vain to make any sense of the long babble of words.

"Oh, I get it," Photodraft looked up.

"What?" Rivet asked.

"They must have done a complete processor wipe on you before sending you here. That's why you got in so much trouble before, you didn't know what they were saying. I bet you aren't actually a simpleton like everyone thinks, you just can't understand us."

They both stared. Megatronus still wasn't quite sure what was going on.

"He needs a language package then, right?" Rivet said.

Megatronus looked back and forth between the two of them. The conversation was going too fast for him to follow. He wished he knew the words to explain that he really didn't know what they were saying, and they needed to slow down.

"Yes," Photodraft said. "But there's no possible way to get one here, not without bribing a medic or something and we don't have anything to bribe with."

"Um…" Rivet said, then looked up with bright optics. "We could just teach him… or you could transmit the data, Photodraft."

Photodraft looked solemnly at Megatronus. "Well… he's got an adult frame, so he's got to have a comm. but if they completely wiped his processor… I guess I could send a short range message over a public frequency… but he'd have to trust me enough to open it. Megatronus, will you let me send you some data?"

"Don't understand words."

"Can I give you words?" Photodraft asked slowly and clearly.

Megatronus mulled over that question for a while. He was pretty sure he knew what it meant, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. "Yes," he said quietly.

"Ok," Photodraft said. "Let's see… how can I frame this so that I don't have to use words to define the words…" he shuttered his optics, and Megatronus felt something in his processor, that same sort of thing he'd gotten from the mech he'd met in the hallway. He eagerly reached for it.

Words and meanings flowed through his processor, filling it, expanding it. Nouns and verbs and modifiers, and beautiful, beautiful meaning. It took a long time, and Photodraft had to keep sending more, but eventually, he had everything he needed.

Megatronus took a few breems to finish integrating the new knowledge. Then he burst into a fit of sobbing.

"Megatronus?" Photodraft asked, looking worried.

"Primus," Megatronus gasped, "Primus, thank you so much, you can't imagine what you've done, I can never repay you for this."

Photodraft stared. "I…" he said, looking shocked.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you, I couldn't…"

"It's ok," Photodraft said.

Megatronus nodded. It was ok. Everything was ok now, he could understand what everyone was saying. "Thank you. And thank you for cleaning out my wounds, nothing I did merits that sort of compassion."

"Can you… remember…?"

"No," Megatronus said. "I can't remember anything before being here. Nothing at all… it's just… there's nothing there. I don't know where I came from, I don't know what my real designation is…"

"Well, you might want to pick a different one besides Megatronus," Photodraft said, raising an optic ridge.

"Why?"

"Megatronus… well he's kind of… he's a historical figure."

Megatronus frowned.

"And he's kind of… a glitch. He betrayed all the other primes and, well…"

"I met a mech the first… the first orn I was here. He gave me a few words, the same way you did… He said something about Megatronus—seemed to really like the designation. I guess I just… decided to use it. I can change it, though, if you really think…"

"No," Photodraft said. "You know what, it's fine. No one really cares around here."

"So that's why you were always so quiet," Rivet said.

Megatronus nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner. They shouldn't take energon from you like that."

Photodraft snorted. "Try telling them that. Around here… whoever's the biggest and the toughest gets what he wants. And Megatronus, I'd advise you to keep that in the front of your processor… or you'll get hurt."

Megatronus looked down, then nodded. "You're right."

"But," Photodraft said. "If you... no, I can't ask that."

"I'll make sure they don't take Rivet's energon," Megatronus said.

"And I'll help you keep those wounds clean until they're better," Photodraft said.

Megatronus nodded.

"Shut up! Some of us are trying to recharge," someone else called from the other side of the cavern.

Megatronus _was_ exhausted. Photodraft and Rivet left to return to their typical spot, and Megatronus lay down, though recharge evaded him. He just had too much to think about—the whole world had opened up to him. Words. He had words now, a wealth of them.

And something else, as well, hopefully.

He had a friend.


	4. Allies and Enemies

Things were better the next time he woke… the next orn, maybe? There was no real way to measure time. He had an internal timepiece, but it had been reset recently. Twenty-two orns ago… he was reasonably certain that he had been alive longer than that.

This time he understood the blue mech's call to get up and go to work. This time he understood the muttered 'thank you's and the words between the swearing. This time no one bothered Rivet in line, casting wary glances at Megatronus. Most of them must have heard their conversation at the end of the last shift.

The blue mech whose designation—Megatronus realized as he thought back—was Spiral, shot a glare at him as they got ready to begin their work.

"What do you have to be so happy about?" he growled.

And then Megatronus realized that he _was_ happy. How could he not be? He had words and a friend, and was now ahead of everyone else instead of behind them, because most of them only had words.

The work was hard, as usual, but Megatronus didn't mind it as much, and at the end of their shift, when Photodraft came to clean out his wounds, he had a question.

"Why is everyone unhappy?"

"What?" Photodraft said.

"I don't think I've seen anyone happy here, my entire time here, except for this crazy mech who might have been trying to kill me, and occasionally Rivet. And I'm not… I'm not unhappy, especially now I can talk."

Photodraft sighed and leaned away, frowning at the ground.

"I'm sorry," Megatronus said. "Was that not a good question?"

"No, it was fine," Photodraft replied. "It's just…" he looked sad. "Well, this place… this is not the nicest place on Cybertron. In fact it's one of the worst. I haven't seen the sun in… in almost a quarter of a vorn now."

Megatronus had never seen the sun, so he wasn't sure what was so special about it that it would make Photodraft so sad.

"And we're practically starving, and by the time we're done with our shift, we're so exhausted we just come back here and collapse. And we'll all die down here sooner or later, because they work us too hard and we don't have medics… Rivet needs an upgrade or he's going to get sick, but we can't get him one…" He trailed off, glancing at his little brother.

"I'm going to die," Rivet said calmly.

Megatronus still didn't quite understand, but he didn't continue to press the question.

Time went by. Megatronus worked hard each shift, looking forward to the end and the short conversations he could have with Photodraft and Rivet before they all recharged. His wounds improved, but he didn't stop making certain Rivet got to drink his energon.

From watching the guards, and listening to his fellow workers, Megatronus discovered that he was in a place called Kaon and that he was a slave, and that they'd probably put him here for some reason—some crime he'd committed that he couldn't remember. The guards didn't seem to be here of their own free choice either, though some of them seemed to enjoy exercising their authority over the workers. Megatronus wasn't afraid of them. One time, he'd been watching Spiral whip another miner, and he could see that the mech was holding the weapon wrong, using it in a way that did not maximize the force of his blows. He'd noticed similar things about the others.

"So you were somewhere else before here?" Megatronus asked one off-cycle when Rivet was already recharging, and Photodraft was working on flattening a chunk of metal into a thin sheet. He didn't have the proper tools, but he did have an old, faulty welder to heat it up with so he could beat it flat with another rock. He would keep it, and use it as a patch if he or Rivet got badly hurt.

"Yes," Photodraft said. "I lived in Kaon, but… well, not the mines."

"Why did you come to the mines?"

Megatronus saw at once that this was yet another wrong question. Photodraft set the welder down and scowled at the misshapen lump of metal.

"You don't have to…"

"No," Photodraft sighed. "I… it's not a particularly unusual or exciting story, but… my creators were in debt to Clench. He's the one who owns the mines, and runs the gladiator pits. Time came for them to pay, and they couldn't, so Clench took Rivet and me instead, and sent us here."

"So you could get out? If you work long enough?"

"No," Photodraft said. "We don't get paid, and they don't keep track of how much money each of us specifically makes them. At this point, my creators would have to pay off their debts, and _then_ raise enough credit to buy our freedom."

"But wasn't… wasn't them taking you fulfillment of their debts?"

"No. It was just punishment for being unable to pay."

"But they're making money off of you. That isn't…"

"They're making money off of you too," Photodraft said. "You don't even know what you did to get you sent here."

Megatronus looked down at himself. Some of his paint had come off, but there were still patches of white and brown. "I wonder… I wonder where I'm from."

"No telling," Photodraft said. "You looked even better than most of the guards when you showed up. So I'd say middle class in one of the bigger, nicer cities on the other side of the planet. Polyhex, Altihex… maybe even Iacon."

Megatronus had never heard those names before.

"I wish I could show you a map," Photodraft started working on the metal again. He burned his hand and grimaced. "But that's not likely down here."

"Why didn't your creators just refuse to let Clench take you?"

"They would have been killed," Photodraft said.

Megatronus frowned. "Did they not have any friends to help them?"

"You still have a hard time understanding, don't you?" Photodraft asked. "None of their friends could do anything. We have no rights. The guards and everyone else can just walk right over us, and we have to lie down and take it, because if we stand up, they can kill us with no repercussions. You know how much Spiral hates you. It's because he got in trouble for almost killing you, and he feels like that's not fair. Oh, Primus…"

"What?"

"I'm worried what will happen when he's allowed to kill you again. It's only about a decaorn away, isn't it?"

Megatronus nodded. "I'll be ok."

"I hope so," Photodraft said. "You'd better keep your helm down, though." He went back to working on the sheet of metal. It was nearly thin enough now. "Rivet likes you," Photodraft said. "He'll be really sad if you die."

Megatronus smiled, trying to be reassuring. But Photodraft just looked even more solemn as he finished the sheet of metal and then curled up around Rivet and powered down. Megatronus wondered why Photodraft seemed even less happy than he had at first. Was it Megatronus's fault?

Maybe it was. Photodraft cared about him too now, despite occasionally denying it, and Megatronus was almost as helpless in some ways as Rivet. So now Photodraft felt as if it was his job to look after both of them. Megatronus had seen mechs die now, and new ones join the group. Most of the time, no one even noticed. If he died, however, it would hurt mechs he cared about. And if they died, he would miss them.

No wonder everyone stayed away from each other.

* * *

The orn that marked the end of his first four decaorns working in the mines came eventually. Photodraft hadn't brought it up again, and Rivet hadn't mentioned it either, but Megatronus could tell they were worried. Slag, he was worried too.

Spiral had been a little less hateful lately, so Megatronus had hope he was losing interest, but he was still nervous.

He woke them—everyone else that was. Megatronus hadn't been able to recharge—as he usually did, shouting for them to get up and get moving. They all trudged out into the hall and got in line for energon. Spiral stood to the side, watching the line with a bored look on his faceplate. Then he caught Megatronus watching him.

"You."

The line kept moving, but Megatronus could feel everyone's audios straining to hear what Spiral was saying.

Megatronus met the mech's gaze calmly.

"Out of line," he said.

What?

"Get out of the line," Spiral said again.

Megatronus stepped out of the line, holding himself with as much calm as he could, though inwardly he was seething. He knew he ought to be afraid of Spiral. Spiral had friends to back him up, and weapons, and power. But Megatronus could feel nothing for him but defiance that bordered on loathing. Spiral was nothing more than… Megatronus searched for a good word to describe the situation.

Than a bully. Spiral was just a bully, and Megatronus would very much like to prove to him that he couldn't push everyone around.

At the same time, Megatronus could easily remember the pain of being beaten within an inch of his life. He had no desire to relive that.

"Forward," Sprial said, getting his whip out. "Move."

He followed Megatronus to the front of the line, and then past it, to the other side, where mechs had their energon already.

Spiral left him there and went back to the end of the line.

Photodraft and Rivet came through, both looking worried. They walked over to where Megatronus was standing. Rivet quietly offered his cube of energon, but Megatronus shook his helm.

"That's yours."

"You're bigger than me," Rivet said. "You need it more. Besides, you've saved me a lot of energon since you started making sure no one else took it."

Megatronus shook his helm again. "And the answer's the same for you, Photodraft. I'll be all right for this shift."

He didn't say he'd be all right indefinitely. If Spiral decided to do this again, he would be in trouble. The injustice of it struck Megatronus again, and he felt the strong need to do _something_.

So he walked back toward the femme and her energon. Photodraft and Rivet stared, and Spiral noticed too and narrowed his optics, as if daring Megatronus to make trouble.

But Megatronus stopped near the cart and waited patiently.

A mech who had been injured the other orn and was limping heavily came through the line. He didn't have much of a chance, and he knew it. A larger mech started toward him even before the energon was in his hand, but Megatronus stepped forward and into that mech's way.

The mech with the hurt leg grabbed his energon and drained it before anyone else could take it. Megatronus stayed near the cart, making sure everyone else got their portion. None of them thanked him. In fact most of the mechs he'd helped looked resentful. He didn't mind though, because he understood now. Caring and helping were things you didn't do, and none of the others wanted to follow him out of that norm and into the realm where things mattered.

"What the frag are you doing?" Spiral said, once everyone had gone through the line.

Megatronus didn't answer, though he could think of a few nice comebacks. Essentially, he was doing what Spiral was _supposed_ to be doing—keeping everyone in order. But if he pointed that out, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be doing it for long.

And then Rivet would go back to having his energon taken from him every shift.

They went down to work in the lower tunnels. About halfway through the shift Megatronus started to feel dizzy and weak, but he kept on. He'd done this before, and could do it again. Then at the end of the shift, flanked by a worried Photodraft and his little brother, Megatronus stumbled back to the cavern where they recharged.

He was nearly powered down when there was a gasp and someone grabbed him roughly, dragging him to his pedes. Megatronus un-shuttered his optics to stare into the faceplate of the largest worker in the group.

"You," he said. "You think you're so noble, don't you?"

Megatronus pushed away and the mech let go of him. He got into a steady stance and stared back coolly. "As far as I've seen," he replied. "There is no such thing as nobility."

The other mech snorted. "Well, you can frag off, all right? Some of us need the extra energon."

"Everyone gets their share," Megatronus said calmly. "From now on. Do you understand?"

Some of the other larger mechs approached too. Photodraft dragged Rivet out of harm's way, looking guilty.

Megatronus wasn't mad at him for wanting to stay out of the fight, though, and he wasn't afraid either. They had come to attack him while they knew he was weak. That meant they were scared of him. That gave him confidence.

"No. There's something I want _you_ to understand, fragger" the largest mech said. "And that's what happens if you try to mess with the way things are. They're that way for a reason."

Megatronus looked calmly, unafraid, unwavering. "From now on," he repeated.

The mech roared and lashed out, but Megatronus caught his hand easily and pulled him off balance. The others attacked. There were six of them in all. But none of them knew how to fight. Now there was a strange thing—fighting was such an innate skill. It was just so obvious, just the shifting of balance and the flow of energy. There was nothing difficult about it. Why was it so hard for them?

One of them got in a lucky hit while he was pondering this, and Megatronus stumbled and nearly fell. They converged on him again, sensing triumph, but he fended them off. He ended up with his back to the wall, but that was better than being surrounded.

He brought one of them down for good with a trip, then a kick to the helm. The next one ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a dent the size of Megatronus's fist.

The other four backed off, looking intimidated.

"From now on," Megatronus said again. "Is that understood?"

They turned and went away, except for the mech with the dent, who lay curled and whimpering on the ground.

Megatronus sat down against the wall, careful not to let his exhaustion show. Photodraft and Rivet came back over. Photodraft wore an unreadable expression, and he sat with his little brother next to him, staring at Megatronus for a long time.

"What?" Megatronus asked.

"If you don't remember anything," Photodraft said. "Then how can you fight like that?"

Megatronus shrugged. "It isn't hard. You just have to balance right."

"No, that was _amazing_ , you didn't even flinch, and you fought off six other mechs—all of them bigger than you."

"But they…"

"You could go to the gladiator pits."

Megatronus tilted his helm to the side. "What?"

"You must have heard of those… they…"

"I know what they are," Megatronus said. "Sort of."

"Well, you're good enough, they'd probably let you join if you told the right guards you wanted to. You wouldn't have to work so hard. They'd give you plenty of energon… you might not live quite as long, but it's better anyway. You might not live long here either if Spiral…"

"But I'd have to leave," Megatronus said. Suddenly the prospect of doing anything else was daunting. He was used to getting up and going to work and coming back at the end of the shift to have a short conversation with Photodraft before resting, and then getting up again. He wasn't sure he wanted that to change.

"Yes," Photodraft said. "Don't worry about us. We'll…"

"No," Megatronus said. "I'd rather stay here."

Rivet smiled. "Well, I'm glad," he said. "I wouldn't want you to leave, Megatronus. We'd miss you. It's not often you find a friend down here…" He looked suddenly sad and Photodraft put a hand on his shoulder. Megatronus made a mental note to ask later, one off-shift when Rivet powered down before Photodraft did.

For now he was too tired. He let himself slip into recharge.

* * *

"Get up you useless piles of scrap! Shift starts in two breems!"

Megatronus lay still for a moment, wishing to Primus he didn't have to get up. But he dragged himself to his pedes, and followed the others out into the hallway to get in line.

He was almost to the front when Spiral took him aside again and shoved him past the cart of energon. Once again both Photodraft and Rivet offered to share, but Megatronus turned them down, telling them that the next shift, if he still hadn't had any, he'd let them give him some.

But he knew this couldn't go on forever. Two rations could not be split between three… then again, Photodraft and Rivet had been sharing one most of the time before Megatronus had started protecting Rivet.

This time, no one attempted to take anyone else's energon. At least that had worked.

They walked to the area they were mining at, and got to work. Megatronus had never done two shifts without energon and he was basically running on fumes. At least the task didn't take much thought. He carried rubble back and forth, away from the wall where they were drilling, to where it could be carted away. He still had no idea where all of it went. He wondered if it had any use, or if it was just thrown away somewhere. Maybe there was an enormous pile of it…

"Hey, pretty-paint," Spiral shouted, "Get your aft in gear. We don't have time for slacking."

Megatronus tried to go a little faster. He was not the slowest worker by far. There were some who got away with barely doing anything at all.

Spiral came over, and lazily flicked his energon whip at Megatronus's arm, causing him to drop the piece of rubble he was carrying on his pedes. He winced, but didn't cry out, and bent to pick it up as if nothing had happened.

"A little clumsy there, aren't you?" he said.

Megatronus glared at the ground. The whip lashed across his back, and Megatronus gripped his piece of rubble harder.

"Pick up the pace," Spiral said.

"Frag off."

Silence.

"Excuse me?"

Megatronus turned and tossed the rubble to the side. "You want to kill me, then get it over with, you slagging coward. Otherwise leave me the _pit_ alone."

The other guards were approaching too, expressions ranging from slightly sorrowful, to bored, to excited as they converged around him.


	5. The Price of Bravery

Photodraft stopped to watch as two of the guards grabbed Megatronus by either arm and turned him around so his back was exposed to Spiral and his whip. He glanced at Rivet, who hadn't noticed yet.

There was a swish, followed by a sharp grating sound and a crackle of plasmatic energon. The whips were barbed as well as energized, so that they tore through the plating.

Rivet looked over and gasped. Photodraft stepped in between him and the scene. "Go back to working."

The younger mech stared at him with wide, pleading optics.

"What?" The whip fell again and Photodraft winced.

"Do something."

"We can't," Photodraft said.

Frag it, he had _known_ it wasn't a good idea to make friends down here. Rivet was the only mech he could care about. If Rivet died, Photodraft would give up and let the mines kill him too. But other mecha…

"Just keep working," Photodraft said.

Megatronus cried out the third time the whip struck. Photodraft clenched his fists, and then bent down to pick up a piece of rubble.

"Just keep working."

"But…"

"Just keep working."

Megatronus screamed. Rivet let out an almost inaudible keen.

"It's ok," Photodraft lied. "It's ok, Rivet, just keep going before one of them notices."

Spiral whipped Megatronus until Megatronus stopped screaming, and then Photodraft still heard the steady sound of the whip for several breems.

It was nearly the end of the shift. They'd almost made it. Megatronus had almost made it one more shift. Unicron claim Spiral and his cruelty and his injustice. Rivet was still crying quietly as they picked up to leave.

Photodraft had a feeling he'd regret it, but he veered slightly as they started down the tunnel so he could walk past Megatronus's frame. The mech lay face up and his flickering optics stared vacantly at the ceiling.

Photodraft stopped.

He was still alive. Primus, how was that possible?

Rivet leaned against him, trembling.

Photodraft put an arm around his little brother and led him after the others, but then pushed him gently away after they'd gone around a corner. Rivet looked up at him, feelings obviously hurt.

"You go with the others," Photodraft said. "I'm going back for Megatronus."

"But…"

"I'll bring him back if I can find a way to stop him from leaking to death. But you need to go with the others, because I could get in trouble for sneaking off."

"Wait," Rivet looked panicked. "What if you don't come back?"

"I'll come back, I promise. I'd never leave you alone down here, Rivet."

Rivet nodded. "Ok."

Photodraft let himself drift to the back of the group, and then he turned around and sprinted the way he'd come, hoping to Primus the corpse crews hadn't come by yet.

Megatronus still lay there, with energon spreading beneath him. Photodraft knelt by him and turned him over, studying the damage.

He wasn't going to make it, not with how much energon he'd lost and how little he'd had to begin with.

But he was still alive.

"Megatronus?" he asked.

Megatronus twitched, then made an obvious effort to get to his hands and knees.

"No, don't." Photodraft pushed him down again and he whimpered. "It's ok… I… I can help. Just hold still…"

Some of the barbs had torn deep. But the gashes were thin enough that Photodraft couldn't get at the energon lines without better tools. So they'd have to seal up and heal on their own. But even if they stopped leaking now, Megatronus couldn't possibly have enough energon left in him to last him until the beginning of the next shift. If Photodraft had better tools and a better understanding of them…

The wounds weren't really that bad in and of themselves. Excruciatingly painful, but not life-threatening.

Photodraft looked around, not really sure what he was looking for. There _was_ one thing he could do.

"Don't worry," he said to Megatronus. "You're going to be ok, I promise. You just need some energon." He pulled a smallish piece of metal from subspace. It had been carved and shaped like a knife, and Photodraft almost never used it, in part because they weren't really allowed to have weapons. He did keep it sharp, though—as sharp as he could keep it under the circumstances.

* * *

Megatronus came fully online to the sensation of someone welding pieces of hot metal to his back. He moaned and tried to get up, but an insistent, familiar voice told him to lie still. Lie still…

"Lie still. I know it hurts. Good to see you online though. You had me worried for a while."

"Photo… what's going on?"

"You talked back to Spiral is what's going on, and he flogged you and left you for dead."

Megatronus remembered that. But it hadn't quite answered his question. "But what are you doing here?"

"Saving your hopeless aft," Photodraft said. "Because I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least try."

Megatronus tried to hold still, but when the next near-molten piece of metal was pressed against his back, he couldn't stifle a wail.

"If I had some real temp plating, I wouldn't need to heat it up so hot," Photodraft said. "But this is all I have so we have to make do. I'm only about halfway finished with this. Tell me if it gets to be too much and I can take a break."

Megatronus nodded slightly

"Your self-repair systems are going to have to fix the damage, but I don't want to risk these getting infected. Last time, you had a real medic to look at them. This time you've just got me."

"I don't… it's hard for you to make those," Megatronus whispered. "Don't use them all on me…" he felt so weak… he wasn't sure if he'd have the strength to stand, much less the strength to walk back to the cavern. Yet he didn't feel as far gone as he was certain he ought to. He shouldn't be alive, and he most certainly shouldn't be awake and aware, should he?

Photodraft set another hot, flat piece of metal on his back and Megatronus dug his fingers into the dusty ground, shaking with the effort of holding still and staying silent.

He felt like he needed something else to focus on, besides the pain, but he couldn't think of anything. There was nothing peaceful down here he could think about. The drills were loud and noisy, the tunnels were filled with motion and at the end of the shift…

Another wave of pain rolled over him, and Megatronus sobbed quietly. Photodraft was silent. There was nothing he could do, was there?

Eventually Photodraft finished and came around in front of Megatronus. His optics were duller than usual, though that might have just been a trick of the lighting.

"Ok," Photodraft said. "Now you have to try to stand up. I'll help you, but there's no way I can carry you."

Megatronus got painfully to his hands and knees, and then let Photodraft lift him up. Photodraft nearly collapsed under his weight at one point, but they both ended up on their pedes, leaning against each other.

"Ok," Photodraft said. "Now we have to get back home… Have to get back to Rivet. Come on, you can lean on me."

They started forward. Megatronus tried to walk on his own for a while, but found he was literally incapable of doing so. He leaned on Photodraft who seemed nearly as exhausted has he felt, but kept going anyway. They stopped just around the corner from the place they recharged. Photodraft helped Megatronus lean against the wall, and then left him there. Megatronus was only waiting there for a moment, though, before he came back.

"We're in luck," he said. "It's only Tatters at the door." He ducked under Megatronus's arm and Megatronus pushed away from the wall.

Tatters looked up as they approached, and raised an optic ridge.

"Sorry," Photodraft said. "We got left behind on the way back. Can you let us in?"

Tatters seemed to consider it for a while, then shrugged and unlocked the door for them. "You know, Spiral's only going to kill him at the beginning of next shift anyway."

Photodraft glared at the ground and dragged Megatronus with him through the door. Rivet rushed up and threw his arms around Photodraft.

"Riv, get off, we need to… ugh, Rivet, you're blocking the way. Help me get him over to the wall."

Megatronus's determination to keep going failed him now that they had arrived in a safe place, and he couldn't make it even to the corner. He collapsed, slipping into stasis.

* * *

"Get up!" Spiral's shout brought Megatronus out of the blackness. Some instinct had been beaten into him that above all else, when Spiral said get up, you got up. He onlined his optics and fought his way to his knees, then his pedes.

"What…"

Megatronus focused and saw Spiral staring at him. He looked down.

"How?" he said. "This is the second fragging time I've killed you to find you right back here the next on-cycle. What is fragging wrong with you?"

Megatronus didn't move.

Spiral came over, and shoved him to the ground. "Looks like someone's been playing nurse," he said, and planted one of his pedes on the makeshift plating that covered Megatronus's wounds. Megatronus screamed, despite trying to choke the sound back.

"Well," Spiral said. "I guess it's my own fault. I'll have to watch your spark go out if I want to be certain of anything." He leaned forward and Megatronus barely held back a whimper as the other mech's weight pinned him against the ground.

"I'll give you one chance, though," Spiral said, stepping back and kneeling by Megatronus. "Beg. Beg for your miserable life, and I might just spare it."

There was nothing Megatronus would have hated to do more. He _could_ not beg for his life. Nothing was worth the failure of giving in, or the smug look he knew he'd see on Spiral's faceplate.

"Please," Rivet's voice was barely more than a whisper. Megatronus looked up, past Spiral to see him staring, with his wide, innocent optics.

He was going to have to watch Megatronus die. All of Photodraft's hard work and risks would go to waste. The others would go back to stealing Rivet's energon.

He could not beg for himself. But he could beg for Rivet.

"Please," he said.

Spiral smirked. "Go on."

"Please spare me."

"I'm not convinced."

Megatronus sobbed. "Oh, Primus, please, _please_ let me live."

Spiral got up. "You aren't very good at that," he said lazily. "You might want to practice a little. Everyone up and get in line!"

Photodraft came over and helped Megatronus up. "Thank you," he said solemnly.

Megatronus stared at him. "Thank you?"

Photodraft looked down at Rivet. Oh. He must have seen, or somehow known that there was no way Megatronus would have begged if it was only his life on the line. Not if Primus himself had asked it of him.

They were close to the door, so they got in toward the front of the line. Spiral let him get energon this time, thankfully, and as he felt the life-saving fluid reach his tanks he started to think he might actually recover.

He caught one of the larger mechs—one of the ones who'd attacked him the other off-shift staring at him, and he realized that if he was too weak to protect them, mechs would have their energon taken from them again. So he walked back to stand by the cart, tall and straight and with a schooled, calm look on his faceplate.

No one tried anything, which was a relief. If they had, Megatronus wouldn't have been able to do much besides fall on them.

* * *

He needed Photodraft and Rivet to support him as they walked back at the end of the shift. When they got to the cavern, they went over to Megatronus's place near the wall. Photodraft and Rivet originally had recharged on the other side of the room, but they'd come over to join Megatronus after a while.

"Photodraft?"

"Let me make sure everything's still sealed right," Photodraft said, kneeling behind him. Megatronus hissed as the other mech prodded some of the plating on his back.

"Sorry."

"It's fine," Megatronus said, smiling when he noticed Rivet watching with a concerned expression.

"Everything looks good," Photodraft said, then came around in front of him again. "How do you feel?"

Megatronus let out a huff of laughter. "Half-dead, but… I'll be all right."

"Yeah," Photodraft looked down. "Let me know if it doesn't start feeling better in a couple of orns, and I'll check for rust."

"Photodraft?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"When did you get hurt?" Megatronus said.

"Huh?" Photodraft sounded confused for a moment, then followed Megatronus's gaze down to his arm, where a small piece of plating was welded. "Oh, that."

Megatronus had noticed it while they were working, but hadn't been close enough to Photodraft to ask.

"What happened?" Megatronus asked, wondering why Photodraft seemed uncomfortable about it.

"Well…" he said. "Last off-shift, you weren't going to make it. I… had to give you some of my energon. Drinking pre-procesed energon isn't really good for you, and I know that's kind of disgusting, but I had to, you were dying…"

Megatronus stared at him.

"What?"

"Wasn't that dangerous for you? I… must have needed a lot." He remembered how dull Photodraft's optics had been on the way back the off-shift before.

"I was careful."

"Still, you put yourself in harms way to save me… I owe you my life now, not just because you helped me…"

Photodraft shook his helm. "Friends don't owe each other. I couldn't have lived with myself if I let you die. Now let's all get some recharge. You especially need rest."

Megatronus nodded, and they joined the other mecha lying on the floor of the cave. Megatronus watched as the other two powered down, but as hard as he tried, the pain wouldn't let him recharge. For one thing, there was no way to lie comfortably, and even if he could, the shift full of bending and lifting hadn't been easy on his injuries. So he sat up, because it was slightly less agonizing than lying on the ground, and waited in an exhausted daze.

Rivet came back online about halfway through the off-shift. He noticed Megatronus watching him and carefully moved away from Photodraft.

"Why aren't you recharging?" he asked as he sat down by Megatronus.

"Why aren't you?"

"I was," Rivet said with a shrug. "I guess… I was having a bad dream."

"I'm sorry."

"But why aren't _you_ recharging?"

Megatronus shook his helm. "I can't I'm… not tired."

Rivet met his optics, staring as if he were searching for something. "Does it hurt too much?"

Megatronus shook his helm slightly. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

Rivet looked down again. "I thought you were going to die."

"It's all right," Megatronus leaned forward and reached out to put a hand on Rivet's shoulder. "Really."

"I had a friend here once," Rivet said. "Before you came. He was just a fledgling like me. His name was Bronzebit."

Megatronus looked down.

"He died, though. Everyone dies down here." Rivet shuttered his optics. Megatronus hadn't seen him look this helpless and miserable before. "There was nothing we could do. Photodraft tried, but… but he didn't make it. We… we haven't had a friend here since. Until you."

"Are you angry that I've forced you into another friendship? If I hadn't…"

"No," Rivet said. "I'm grateful. I missed it. I love my brother, but it's nice to have other friends too. And I think it's good for him. He's not so miserable all the time when he has more mecha to take care of. He likes that. And it'll hurt more if you died, but I think it's worth it. Don't you?"

Megatronus nodded. "I hope so, but I don't know. I've never lost anyone."

"What about… oh, right. You can't remember your friends from before the mines, can you?"

"I don't even know if I had any," Megatronus said.

"I miss my creators," Rivet said. "They were really nice. They took care of us. You don't usually have two brothers who are so close in age. You aren't supposed to raise more than one sparkling at once. But I'm glad I had Photodraft to look after me, or I would be all alone down here."

Megatronus nodded. He remembered what it was like to be alone.

"Megatronus?"

"Yes."

"If Photodraft dies… will you be my brother?"

"Of course," Megatronus said.

"And if I die, will you be his?"

"I don't think he'll want to replace you," Megatronus said. "But I'll do what I can."

"Thank you." Rivet yawned and came closer to embrace Megatronus. "I know you mean that."

Megatronus put his arms around the smaller mech. After a few moments, Rivet went limp, and Megatronus looked down to see he was recharging again.

Careful not to wake him, Megatronus moved him so he was in a less awkward position, and then shuttered his optics.

* * *

Photodraft woke with the vague feeling that something wasn't right. He sat up and realized Rivet wasn't there. Panicked for a moment, he got to his knees and stared around the quiet room. Where was…

There. Photodraft's fear dissipated. Rivet was recharging, curled up in Megatronus's lap. Megatronus was still sitting, also powered down, with his optics shuttered and his helm hanging. Photodraft carefully stepped over the few mechs in between them and lay down next to them. Rivet was safe, and Megatronus was resting—everything was all right.

Photodraft slipped back into recharge.

* * *

The next several shifts were hard for Megatronus, but his wounds did heal, and he did regain his strength. Spiral stopped bothering him so much, Megatronus kept his helm down well enough that he didn't get into any more trouble, and everyone got their energon ration.

For a while, at least, things stayed that way.

One orn, there was a cave-in. Megatronus had never seen one before, but he'd heard of them. They, along with energon explosions were the two most feared events in the mines.

The tunnel they were working in shook first, before it collapsed. One end of the tunnel, the very far end, buckled and fell.

It wasn't a very large collapse, and everyone got out of the way except for one mech. He was the largest mech in the group, the one who had challenged Megatronus about stealing energon. A large chunk of metal hit him and knocked him down, pinning him to the ground. He cried out, but no one went to help him as he struggled free.

And then they went back to work, though Megatronus noticed that everyone was jumpy for the rest of the shift, even Spiral. They all kept glancing up at the ceiling.

At the end of the shift, they started walking back. Megatronus noticed that the mech who'd been injured was lagging at the back of the group, limping. One of his legs didn't seem to want to hold his weight. He noticed Megatronus watching him and glared.

So Megatronus fell back to walk next to him.

"Frag off," the other mech said.

Megatronus ducked under his arm. "Lean on me."

"No. Frag off."

"Yes," Megatronus said. Spiral was looking in his direction. He needed this mech to cooperate right now. "Come on, you don't want to get left behind."

"I don't want your help."

"That's too bad."

"You can't just show up and take over."

"I'm not."

He did lean on Megatronus, though, for the rest of the way, and Megatronus could hear how much pain he was in from how he flinched every time he came down on his bad leg. Photodraft and Rivet were watching him—Photodraft didn't seem too happy, but Rivet looked curious.

When they got back to the cave, the other mech shoved away from Megatronus and limped over to his usual spot.

"What was that for?" Photodraft asked when Megatronus came over and sat by them. "And before you ask, no I will not fix his knee."

"He was hurt," Megatronus said. "I've been hurt before. It's a lot nicer when there's someone you can lean on."

"You can't do that here," Photodraft said.

"You did."

"Yes, but… but I owed you something."

Megatronus shook his helm. "I don't think so."

"We were already friends."

"We started being friends when I saved Rivet's energon," Megatronus said. "I don't see why I can't make more friends."

"That's because you haven't lost anyone yet," Photodraft said. "Trust me. Don't make friends. I promise you you'll be a lot less miserable if you just keep to yourself."

"I think Megatronus is right," Rivet said.

Photodraft frowned at him.

"No, really," Rivet said. "I was miserable and sad… but I'm less sad now Megatronus is our friend. And so are you."

"Please, Photodraft," Megatronus said. "Would you help him with his leg?"

"No," Photodraft said again. "I can't. If I start fixing some of them, the others will want it too, and I don't have the resources."

Megatronus could understand that. "Ok."

"No," Rivet protested. "Photodraft, please. I can help you get more resources… I'm not sure how, but I'm sure we can figure something out."

"That mech stole your energon shift after shift." Photodraft gestured to where the injured mech was. He was watching, probably listening too. "You and I could have died because of him."

"So?" Rivet asked. "It's not like I haven't done bad things before. Or you. Everyone does. I still think Megatronus is right, and we should try to make more friends."

"Photodraft is the one with his helm on straight," the injured mech called from across the room. It was the first indication Megatronus had that the other mech knew their designations.

Everyone probably knew their designations, because they actually talked to each other.

"Please, Photodraft," Rivet said. "I think deep down you really do want to help."

Photodraft put a hand to his faceplate. "I can't."

"Please."

"You know what…" Photodraft said. "Fine. Fine, whatever." He crossed the room, with everyone watching, and Rivet and Megatronus followed him.

The injured mech glared at Megatronus. "I hope you know this doesn't make us friends. And I refuse to owe you anything. I didn't want your help."

"Fair enough. You don't owe me anything," Megatronus said.

Photodraft stretched out the broken limb to see it better, and the injured mech's engine growled.

"What's your designation?" Megatronus asked.

"Frag off."

Megatronus hadn't expected anything else. Exchanging designations wasn't something you usually did. It meant you would notice when the other mech died.

"Well, you'll already notice when _I_ get offlined," Megatronus said.

"What?" the other mech looked at him like he was crazy.

"So why not tell me your designation?"

"Just frag off."

Why else wouldn't he want to say it? Maybe he just liked being difficult.

"You know ours already," Rivet chimed in. "It's only fair."

"No…Ah!"

"Sorry," Photodraft said. "Hold still, I've got to get this joint back into the right place, and it's going to hurt."

The large mech looked down and shuttered his optics. Photodraft reached into his knee and shoved something. There was a nasty click as the joint shifted, but the injured mech didn't cry out, and afterward, he relaxed.

"I'd warn you not to put weight on it," Photodraft said dully, "But I don't think that's going to be possible. Let me know if it dislocates itself like that again. Your self-repair systems will have to take care of the rest of the damage because I don't know how." He got up and walked away, and Rivet and Megatronus followed him again.

Far from looking as if the good deed had cheered him up, Photodraft looked tired and sad. Rivet leaned against him, hugging his arm.

"I'm sorry," Megatronus said.

Photodraft shook his helm. "We're so hopeless. You don't even know how hopeless we are, because you've been here as long as you can remember. But there's a world out there—up on the surface—where things are better most of the time."

* * *

Another mech got injured a few shifts later, and though Megatronus didn't try to talk him into it, Photodraft offered to help. Megatronus realized why he had looked so sad. When he'd decided to help that one mech, he'd decided to help all of them. He'd claimed the others would demand his help, but in reality, he would demand it of himself.

Megatronus wasn't sure if he liked that, but he didn't say anything until Photodraft had done repairs on a third mech.

"Photodraft…"

"Yes?"

"You know you don't have to…"

"You're right," Photodraft said. "I don't have to. But I hate this place."

Megatronus wasn't sure what that had to do with repairing anyone.

"I hate this place because it drains the spark out of you until you're just a drone, going about your work, not caring when the mech working next to you falls down and doesn't get up. I hate that."

"But you don't seem to _want_ to repair anyone."

"I don't," Photodraft said. "And that bothers me. Because I shouldn't feel like that."

"You shouldn't?" Megatronus wondered. "But that's how everyone feels. What does that even mean, you _shouldn't_ feel that like that? You can't choose how you feel about something."

"Well… maybe not." Photodraft said. "But what you _do_ affects how you feel." He sighed. "I don't even know what I'm doing, or why I've decided to try to fix everyone. I'm not a medic. There's no way in the universe that I'd ever have become a medic, even if I hadn't been sent here. They don't let you go to good enough schools unless you have enough credit."

"School?"

"Yeah. You know that word, right?"

"Yes. I didn't think… you've been to school?"

"Yes—but only the first two vorns, and they really didn't teach us much. I bet you went to a better one."

There was a strange thought.

"In any case," Photodraft said. "If I run out of materials, then I just… then it means I won't be able to heal myself or Rivet if it comes down to it. So that's going to be a problem."

"What materials do you need?" Megatronus asked.

"Well… I mostly need fuel for my little wending torch, and temp plating, because that's all I can get anyway. But I haven't had time to make much more since you were hurt. Speaking of which, I should take that mess off of your back soon. Do you think the wounds have closed themselves?"

Megatronus nodded. "So you need pieces of metal pounded into thin sheets."

"It has to be the right kind of metal."

"What kind of metal?"

"Why?"

"Because I can help you find more, if you show me what it looks like. And if you took the plating off my back, could you re-use—"

"No," Photodraft said. "It's not real temp plating, so it gets corrupted by your self-repair systems as they work around it."

"Ok," Megatronus said. "But I _will_ help you find more."

"Thank you," Photodraft said.

A mech came over—the one Photodraft had just helped.

He sat down by them. "I want to help too, to repay you. I owe you a debt."

Photodraft hesitated.

"What's your designation?" Megatronus asked.

"Treadline," the mech said. "And I already know yours, all three of you."

During the next shift, Photodraft showed them the qualities of the pieces of metal he was looking for—they had to be the right size as well as the right flexibility and chemical composition. Between the four of them, they managed to gather enough that by the end of the shift, Photodraft could make a few more pieces of plating. But instead of doing that, he took off the metal he'd welded to Megatronus's back. He used the little torch and a blade, and it hurt, but not nearly as much as it had hurt when he put it on, and once it was gone, Megatronus felt much closer to normal.

Treadline was the first, but not the last. After that, it became typical for those mechs who Photodraft helped to come up and offer their designation and promise to help Photodraft in return. Megatronus was actually a little surprised that it kept happening. Photodraft seemed surprised too.

And they stopped dying so much. In the next fifty or sixty shifts, they only lost two mechs.

But that didn't last forever.


	6. Promises

"I was a construction worker before they sent me here," a mech was telling Megatronus. Mecha here didn't normally like to talk about their pasts, but pasts fascinated Megatronus, so he kept asking, and eventually a few of the others had started to open up. "I ran out of work, though, and I had heard there was always work in Kaon, or at least that everyone had energon. I thought I'd help build buildings or something… but I ended up in debt, and when the collectors came around and I couldn't pay, they sent me here. That's where most of us come from. The upper city of Kaon is better than down here, but to tell the truth, if you live up there, it's only a matter of time before they send you to the mines."

Megatronus had tried to imagine the city, but he had nothing to base it off of. The sun and the stars also, were a mystery to him, though he knew what they were. He hoped he'd be able to see them before he was offlined, but he knew it wasn't likely.

"Shouldn't Kaon be empty then? If they send everyone to the mines?" he asked.

"Thing is," the mech said. "Kaon's got work for everymech, and energon for everymech. Cheap, free-flowing high-grade too. So more mecha come from other cities. And they spread around lies too, that you can get rich in Kaon, that energon's so cheap you don't even need to pay for it. All lies. It's a big trap. Of course, then there are some criminals who get sent here. They hand you a ticket to Kaon sometimes, instead of a death sentence. Because why not? Clench will pay a few credits to anyone who sends him a mine worker, and then they can claim they aren't killing as many. And he's got deals with all the big important mechs in the Councils anyway."

"What kind of deals?" Megatronus asked.

The other mech shrugged. "I don't know. Deals deals. I'm just telling you what I heard."

"So you don't actually know?"

"Who do you think I am? I've never even _met_ Clench or even any of the mine supervisors or anything. I'm just telling you what other mechs told me before I got sent here."

"Oh."

"You're the one who doesn't have memories, isn't that right?"

Megatronus nodded. "I can't remember anything before waking up here."

"That's glitched," the mech said. "I guess there's no way to find out who you were now."

"No," Megatronus said. "You think it's possible any of us will get out of here?"

"I doubt it." The mech said.

"So before Kaon, where did you live?"

"I lived in…"

A sudden shout was followed by an enormous sound that drowned out everything else. Megatronus was knocked off of his pedes by something he couldn't see and a wave of blistering heat washed over him. If he'd had any paint left on his back, it would have been burned off.

He got to his pedes and turned around, trying to see what had happened. One of the drills was in pieces all over the place, and there was a jagged hole in the wall where a cave of energon crystals had been.

Miners got up, moaning, many burned and some leaking. Photodraft had been a little closer than Megatronus, and hadn't gotten to his pedes yet. Megatronus hurried over to help him up.

"Photodraft, are you all right?"

Photodraft nodded, then surveyed the scene.

"All right!" Spiral called from farther away. He hadn't even been knocked over by the explosion. "Gather the dead. Drag them out here. Any mech who can't stand up gets left behind at the end of the shift. I need a helm count."

Megatronus took a step forward, but Photodraft grabbed his arm. "Where's Rivet?"

Megatronus looked out over the standing mechs. None of them were small enough. He shook free of Photodraft's grasp, and rushed toward the center of the explosion, looking for a frame that was Rivet's size.

"He's here!" Treadline waved Megatronus over, and he and Photodraft rushed to Treadline's side. Rivet lay, leaking energon. He was missing half of an arm, and the rest of him was burned and melted almost beyond recognition.

"No…" Photodraft knelt beside him. "Rivet… Rivet, you can't do this…"

Megatronus knelt as well, and Photodraft carefully rolled Rivet over so he was face-up and started trying to tie off the smoking energon lines in his arm.

"Hey!" Spiral called. "What's the hold-up over there! Get moving!"

"You two go," Photodraft said.

Megatronus and Treadline left. They dragged a few bodies over to the sidelines, then went back for Rivet and Photodraft. Photodraft had stopped the leaking, but he still looked very worried.

"Ok, now get back to work!" Spiral shouted. "Move it! We've got to make up for that lost pocket of crystals. Clumsy idiots!"

"Come on, Photodraft," Treadline said. "We have to put him with the others."

Photodraft shook his helm.

"There's nothing you can do," Treadline said. "If you don't get back to work, Spiral will come over here and take him away. Let's put him with the others, and then we can take him back with us when the shift's over, all right?"

Photodraft picked his little brother up carefully, and walked with him over to lay him next to the other bodies. Rivet's optics flickered and came online. He was still alive.

Megatronus stared at the line of dead frames. They had lost nearly half of the group. He knew some of them by their designation.

Everyone who could walk got back to work. Then, at the end of the shift, they stepped over the pile of the dead. Not all of them were all the way offline, but none of them would be getting up again without help.

Megatronus hesitated, then reached down to help a barely-online mech up to his pedes.

"None of that," Spiral said. "If they can't walk, they can't work."

"You don't have to replace them if you don't leave them here," Megatronus replied. "Some of them will be able to walk after some rest."

Spiral came over and shoved Megatronus. Already supporting another mech's weight, Megatronus couldn't stop himself from stumbling. The other mech cried out and Megatronus let him go.

"Leave them here," Spiral said. "That one too!" he shouted, and Megatronus turned to see Photodraft carrying Rivet.

"Please," Photodraft said. "He's my brother, _please._ "

"He was already a waste of energon. Leave him here, he's dead."

Megatronus would have liked nothing better than to strangle Spiral. But he couldn't.

"What do you want?" he asked instead.

"What?" Spiral narrowed his optics.

"What do you want in return for letting Photodraft take Rivet back?"

"You don't have anything to give me," Spiral said.

"You want a promotion?" Megatronus asked. "I've heard you talking about it. I can make it happen."

"No you can't," Spiral said. "Shut up and get back in line before I decide to kill you again."

"Ok," Megatronus said. He turned and walked away. He put an arm around Photodraft's shoulders as he came to his friend, and led him the way the rest of the group was going.

"I said put the dead one back!" Spiral shouted after them.

"I'm not going to," Photodraft whispered.

"Don't worry," Megatronus said. "We're not leaving him here. He'll be fine."

Photodraft shuddered.

Spiral didn't shout after them again.

* * *

Megatronus had expected the others to be angry with him. A lot of them knew each other. Some of them had even begun talking to each other, and now nearly half of them were gone. But the mechs around him didn't seem angry. They didn't even seem sad. They had gone back to what they were before, except for the few that had been almost friends with Rivet and Photodraft, who all looked sad. None of them expected Rivet to live, did they?

That irked Megatronus, that they would have so little faith in Photodraft's abilities. Megatronus _knew_ Photodraft, and knew he would do anything for his brother, and that he wouldn't give up. Rivet was going to be fine.

They got back to the place they recharged and Megatronus and Photodraft sat down in their usual spot by the wall. He could feel everyone's optics on them as Photodraft listened to Rivet's internals and gently ran his fingers over the little mech's deformed faceplate.

"Well?" Megatronus asked at length.

Photodraft shrugged, but didn't say anything. That must mean he didn't feel like talking, or that there was something he didn't want to say.

They sat there, while everyone else slipped off into recharge, and waited for Rivet to wake up. They watched him as the next shift approached, listening to the broken, grinding sound of his engine, and thanking Primus for each breem that it kept making noise.

Rivet finally did wake up near the beginning of the next shift. He un-shuttered his optics and tried to sit.

"Lie still," Photodraft told him, gathering his little brother into his arms. "Just lie still, Rivet."

"Photo… Photodr…draft?"

"Yes," Photodraft said. "I'm right here."

"What ha… happened?"

"There was an explosion. You were hurt, but you're going to be all right, ok? You're going to be just fine."

Rivet smiled. It was wavering and it stretched his warped faceplate in strange ways.

"You're going to be fine," Photodraft said again, rocking back and forth. "I promise. Just rest for now, and you'll be all right."

Rivet shuttered his optics again and didn't say anything else, but Photodraft kept rocking, and kept promising him he'd be all right, until Spiral showed up to get everyone up.

Mechs stood, and stretched. A few came over to ask if Rivet was still alive.

"We're going to need to leave him here," Megatronus said to Photodraft. "Just set him by the side."

"What if they take him away during the shift?" Photodraft asked.

"Well, they'll take him away if we bring him," Megatronus said. "I'm certain of that."

Photodraft carefully laid Rivet by the wall and then followed Megatronus out into line. They were the last two

"Rivet needs energon," Megatronus said quietly. "What are we going to do about that?"

Photodraft shrugged, glancing back again at where his brother lay.

"We can't keep the container. They make sure we don't, I've seen them counting."

"We'll figure something out," Photodraft said, but he sounded… hopeless.

"Hey," Megatronus said. "Rivet's going to be ok."

"What if he's not?"

"Don't _say_ that. He'll be fine. He's made it so far."

Photodraft nodded. They got through the line and were faced by several of the other mechs, regarding them seriously.

"What?" Megatronus asked.

"Here," one of them held out an old, tarnished metal bottle. "We all pitched in a little. It's for Rivet."

Photodraft took the offering and looked into it, then poured about a quarter of his energon in and handed the bottle to Megatronus. It was about halfway full of energon. More than one shift's rations. Megatronus followed Photodraft's example and poured about a quarter of his in, then drank the rest and handed the bottle back to Photodraft.

"Thank you," Photodraft said, then looked down, shaking with emotion.

"It's the least we could do," the mech said, and Photodraft subspaced the bottle. They went down to start their shift.

It seemed to last longer than a normal shift—stretching on and on while Rivet could be dying. But finally, eventually, it was over. They all walked back quickly. Megatronus could remember a time when the only reason these mechs noticed Rivet was to steal his energon. Now they cared about him, even the ones who wouldn't admit it. It was proof that that was possible, proof that Megatronus wasn't wrong, and that caring was really more powerful than fuel.

Rivet was conscious when Photodraft knelt over him and pulled out the bottle of energon.

"Photodraft?" he said. "Photodraft, it's too hot in here."

"Shhh," Photodraft picked Rivet up.

"Where did you go?"

"I went to work. But I've come back, and you're going to be all right. I have some energon for you."

Rivet shook his helm.

"You will take it," Photodraft said.

Megatronus watched as Photodraft carefully lifted Rivet's helm and poured a trickle of energon past his lip plates. Rivet coughed and Photodraft waited for him to swallow, then gave him a little more. Rivet did look a little better after he'd consumed about half the energon in the bottle. He even sat up for a few breems. He asked where the energon had come from, and when Photodraft explained that all the other mechs in the group had pitched in a little, he insisted on thanking them all personally. Then he slipped back into recharge. Photodraft curled up around him, and Megatronus kept watch by himself until the next shift.

* * *

Rivet was well enough to walk when Spiral came to wake them all. He got in line behind Photodraft, and got his own energon. By the time they got to where they were working, Rivet's stamina seemed spent, but Megatronus and Photodraft encouraged him to keep going because if he stopped he'd be in trouble.

Megatronus carried him back at the end of the shift, and then—having missed recharging twice—wasn't able to stay awake to keep watch again.

The next time Spiral got them up for the beginning of their shift, they had twelve new mechs. Some of them had the newness of mechs from outside—others had just been transferred from other teams.

Rivet wasn't doing so well. He didn't want to get up, but Photodraft dragged him to his pedes and into line, because at this point Spiral was likely to just have him killed if they left him behind.

Some mech—one of the new ones—stole another's energon. Megatronus was too far back in line to do anything.

Rivet collapsed halfway through the shift and wouldn't get up again. Fortunately, Spiral was too busy shouting at the new mechs who didn't know the routine, to notice. Megatronus had to carry Rivet again when they went back.

The mechs who'd started opening up were backing off again, especially now that there were newcomers. Megatronus was too busy worrying about Rivet to care. He was too warm to the touch, and barely conscious when they got back to the place they recharged.

Photodraft took the temp plating off of Rivet's half-missing arm. Underneath was a mess of discolored energon and rust. Photodraft cleaned it out as well as he could, but Megatronus could see the fear in his optics.

Rivet tried to say something, but it didn't make any sense. Something about brothers and pain. Photodraft held him, rocking back and forth, for the whole time in between shifts. And about ten breems before Spiral showed up, the light went out of Rivet's optics, and his engine stalled and went silent.

He was gone.

"All right, you slagging scrap heaps!" Spiral said. "Get up!"

Photodraft clutched Rivet more tightly to him as Megatronus got to his pedes. He wasn't sure whether to drag Photodraft up as well or not.

Spiral came over, and stood beside them, looking down at Photodraft coldly. Megatronus held out a hand to help him up, but Photodraft ignored him.

"Take that thing away from him," Spiral said, and then the other guards came over and shoved Megatronus out of the way.

Photodraft fought them, holding Rivet tightly. He wouldn't let go, even when they kicked and pulled. Megatronus wanted to step in, but something—maybe the scars on his back, or how low his energon levels were—kept him back.

They finally managed to drag Rivet away from his brother, and Photodraft screamed and struggled as one of the guards carried the little lifeless frame from the room.

Then Photodraft went limp, sobbing, broken.

Spiral got his energon whip out. "Get up," he said coldly. The whole room was watching, but no one made any move to help.

Spiral brought the whip cracking down on Photodraft's shoulder, and Photodraft didn't even respond.

Megatronus couldn't hold himself back anymore. He stepped in between Photodraft and Spiral, and reached down to lift his friend from the ground.

"Please don't," Photodraft said. "Just leave me here, Megatronus."

Megatronus hesitated. If he lost Photodraft he'd be alone again. He hadn't thought about that, but he was suddenly terrified. "No. Get up. I need you."

Photodraft sighed and stood on his own.

"Don't get in my way," Spiral warned, and snapped the whip at Megatronus's back. Megatronus got in line, this time making sure he was close enough to the front to stop anyone from trying to steal anyone else's energon. Of course, he also had to make sure Photodraft drank his.

Photodraft was listless, almost lifeless as the shift progressed. Megatronus felt the same way, on the inside. He kept glancing up to look for Rivet, before remembering that Rivet wasn't there anymore.

A mech broke his arm during that shift. He was one of the new ones. He lagged on the way back and sat down as soon as he got in, cradling the damaged limb. As soon as everyone had come in and settled down, Photodraft got up and approached the other mech. Megatronus watched from his spot by the wall. The other mech seemed frightened at first, but Photodraft talked quietly to him, and he calmed down and let the other mech look at his arm.

When Photodraft was done with the repairs, he walked back over to Megatronus, still with that dullness in his optics.

"Photodraft…" Megatronus said. It was the first time he'd tried to talk to him since early that orn.

"I can't stop repairing them. Don't question it."

Megatronus understood. It was what Rivet would have wanted. Photodraft had chosen to keep living even though his brother had died, so he could keep repairing Megatronus and a bunch of other mechs who were also going to die—no matter how many times Photodraft fixed them.

This whole thing was utterly futile, wasn't it? Megatronus would either be offlined himself, or watch all these other mechs go one by one. Why had he tried to befriend any of them? Friends didn't get you anything but sparkache when they died and left you more alone than you were before.

Caring about anything was pointless. He was never going to see the stars. This would be his entire existence, and then one shift he wouldn't come back.

He slipped into recharge, starting to wish that he was dead already.


	7. New Energon

Things didn't go back to normal, or even get much better. Rivet was still dead, and nothing they did could fix that. Photodraft still repaired anyone who was hurt, and Megatronus still stopped them from stealing each others' energon, but they were just going through the motions.

That was all right, though. Megatronus didn't want it to get better. He didn't want to feel again.

But slowly, inevitably, Rivet's death faded, and just the fact that Megatronus and Photodraft still meddled in the affairs of the others around them changed things.

Their little group of miners started to become what it had before, only without Rivet. And despite the gaping hole in the dynamic, it was still better than loneliness. Because of Photodraft, mechs died less often in their unit than in others, and they started to get that false sense of security that allowed them to trade designations. Eventually, a sort of conservative kinship grew between them, because they were all suffering in the same bleak situation.

And then a mech died and was replaced by an old veteran of the mines, who would have none of their fellowship.

He showed up during the off-shift time. Megatronus came half out of recharge, enough to recognize that the guards were there and then that they had gone again.

The next shift, as always, Megatronus got up when Spiral shouted at them, and got in line. They saved a spot near the front for him, possibly out of deference, possibly to ensure that no one would try to steal their energon. Megatronus noticed the newcomer—an old battered-looking mech with no paint job to speak of and a scarred faceplate. He got in line about a third of the way through and shot a glare in Megatronus's direction when he caught him looking.

Megatronus downed his energon and stood in his usual spot, waiting patiently for everyone to go past. He _could_ take their energon, and they knew it, but they also trusted him not to. He appreciated that trust. He liked it.

The new mech glared harder as if daring Megatronus to try stealing from him, or maybe warning him against it. Megatronus let him scurry past with his energon, and even smiled at him.

When the new mech was finished he came and stood across from Megatronus, waiting. A mech whose designation was Mudskimmer limped through, near the end of the line. His pede had gotten crushed under one of the drills' wheels just two shifts ago, and he'd barely made it back.

As soon as Mudskimmer came through, the new mech moved to intercept him, but Megatronus calmly stepped in the way. He'd needed to do this a few times before, when they got newcomers who didn't know that the rules of this team were different.

Mudskimmer hobbled past and drank his energon, and the new mech stared incredulously at Megatronus while the rest of the line went through. Megatronus smiled at him again.

They walked to work. A few times, Megatronus found himself next to the new mech, and he tried to start a conversation. It wouldn't work yet, of course, but if he was persistent, he could usually get them to talk to him after a few orns, even if they only did it so he'd leave them alone.

* * *

They walked back at the end of the shift. There had been no new injuries, but there were a few old ones that Photodraft looked at. There was scattered talking, and even a little joking as everyone settled down to recharge, and as soon as the guards were gone, the new mech marched straight up to Megatronus.

"You," he said. "What is your slagging problem?"

Megatronus shrugged. "I don't know."

"Just who do you think you are? Are you responsible for this madness?" He gestured to where Photodraft was carefully checking over Mudskimmer's pede.

"Look," Megatronus said. "I know things are a little different in this team, but you're going to have to cope. Most mechs find they like it better this way. I should warn you. though, that nomech steals anyone else's energon here. I'd suggest you don't try it again next shift."

The new mech's optics blazed in the darkness. "This is the pits of the inferno," he said. "It's every mech for himself here."

"Not on this team," Megatronus said firmly. "You'll get used to it."

"You're new here, aren't you?"

"No. If an orn is a shift, I'd say I've been here half a vorn."

"Then you're stubborn. They'll wipe that foolish grin off of your faceplate or they'll kill you, eventually."

"How long have you been here?"

"Go get fragged,"

Megatronus shrugged. "Like I said, you'll just have to get used to the way we do things."

"Can't slagging believe this," the mech grumbled as he turned to walk away.

"Hey," one of the others said. "Megatronus is right, you know."

The new mech hesitated, and surveyed the dimly-lit room. "You're all idiots," he said. "Every last one of you thinks you agree with him, don't you? You're all just idiots. He's a fragging sparkling, you can see it in his optics. He doesn't know anything."

No one refuted him, and he curled up and went into recharge. Megatronus took his usual place by the side of the wall and Photodraft came over to sit next to him and take inventory. They'd managed, through combined effort, to amass a small supply of useful things. They had a half-full bottle of energon, and another container with a little bit of solvent at the bottom, two rags, and plenty of temp plating, as well as Photodraft's little torch and his knife.

"This one's going to be tough," Photodraft said quietly.

"He talked to me at the end of the first shift," Megatronus said. "I don't think he'll be much trouble."

"If you say so," Photodraft put everything back into his subspace and curled up, facing away from Megatronus. Megatronus turned the other way. Photodraft still wasn't the same—they couldn't really go back to when Rivet had been alive. But they would keep going anyway.

* * *

"Get up you slagging excuses for scrap heaps! Shift starts in two breems!"

Megatronus dragged himself to his pedes. He was always, always tired. The others sometimes complained about it, especially the larger mechs. They weren't given enough energon to truly sustain themselves. Inevitably, one orn, they'd just get so worn out that they collapsed and offlined. Megatronus had seen it happen.

He wasn't intending to let it happen to him. He was pretty sure he'd be killed by something else anyway. There were plenty of other ways to go. In the next energon explosion, or cave-in, or after offending Spiral one too many times.

"Let's go!" Spiral said.

They lined up and followed him out into the hallway. Megatronus almost wasn't paying attention as the line went past, until the new mech jumped on Mudskimmer, knocking the energon from his hands and shoving him to the ground. Megatronus grabbed the new mech and dragged him off. The container of energon spilled about half its contents before Mudskimmer grabbed it again, then scrambled way, downing it as fast as he could. Megatronus slammed his fist into the other mech's snarling faceplate twice before Spiral and the other guards broke up the fight with their energon whips.

"Hey, dead mech," Spiral said. "If this becomes a problem, you're going to have to be at the end of the line every shift."

Megatronus didn't acknowledge what Spiral had said. He didn't trust himself not to snap at the guard, and he knew that wouldn't end well if he did.

They trudged out to start their shift. Megatronus walked next to the new mech, because he needed to make something clear. "I might be just a little naïve," he said quietly. "But I hope you're under no illusions that I'm some sort of saint. If you can't keep to your own rations and leave the injured alone, you will regret it."

The mech didn't make any move to let Megatronus know he'd heard, but Megatronus didn't need an acknowledgment.

He would keep an optic on this mech though. A few like him had tried again the second shift, but there was something different about this one. Maybe Photodraft was right about him being trouble.

About a quarter of the way through the shift, Megatronus saw the new mech walk over to the guards. Curious, he watched out of the corner of an optic, as the mech said something quietly to them.

Spiral laughed out loud and shook his helm, then pointed back to the rest of the group. "Get back to work. It's not a problem."

"I warn you," The new mech said, loud enough that Megatronus could hear this time.

"Oh, cut the slag, none of the others really care," Spiral got out his energon whip. "Watch, I'll prove it." Spiral looked up and met Megatronus's optics. Everyone stopped working. The guard's gaze flickered, and he looked around, frowning.

What had the new mech said to him? And why had everyone stopped? Megatronus went back to work, and the rest of them followed suit.

"See?" the new mech said. "He's dangerous. They all listen to him."

Spiral shook his helm and led his guards over to where Megatronus was standing.

Megatronus didn't fight as a guard grabbed either arm and forced him to his knees. He could have fought and overpowered all three of them, but it wouldn't have stopped the pain, it would just have prolonged the inevitable, and then they might be angry enough to kill him.

"This is Kaon," Spiral said. "Maybe this mech's insanity is a little contagious, but the moment he gets himself killed, the rest of them will go back to what they were before." He swung his whip and it burned across Megatronus's back. "He can bully them into being nice about the energon." He swung again. Megatronus gritted his denta and forced himself not to flinch. "He can coax their designations from them." He swung harder this time. "But at the end of the orn, none of them is going to lift a servo in his aid." The whip hit the back of his helm this time, and the barbed end of it caught the edge of his faceplate. Megatronus couldn't keep in a short gasp. He looked up. The other mechs were all watching. Some of them looked angry. One of the larger ones took half a step forward.

 _No. No, don't, don't._ Megatronus set his faceplate and shook his helm slightly. If any of them intervened, they would prove Spiral wrong, and then there would be consequences. Megatronus didn't want any of them to die because of him.

Spiral hit him a few more times, and then had the guards release him. Megatronus got to his pedes with energon dripping down his back and his faceplate, and went back to work. Photodraft approached him, but he warned the other mech away with a murderous glare. Not now. That had been too close.

The rest of the shift was agony, but it wasn't bad enough that Megatronus couldn't keep working. At the end of the orn, several of the others surrounded him as they walked back, not touching him but there to catch him in case he fell. He appreciated that.

They got back to the cave, and the guards left and locked the door.

"Megatronus," Photodraft hurried over to him. "Turn around, I need to clean that out."

"It's ok, Photo."

"No," Photodraft said. "It is not."

"I said I'm fine," Megatronus told him. "It's not as bad as the last time."

"Don't be ridiculous," another mech said, grabbing Megatronus's shoulder and shoving him toward Photodraft.

"Ow!"

"Hey!" Photodraft said, "Don't _hurt_ him, Primus. Just kneel down, Megatronus."

Megatronus sighed and did as Photodraft had told him. He bore patiently the sting of the solvent-damp rag on his back. Photodraft cleaned off his injured faceplate as well. "This will probably scar," he said. "Normally it wouldn't, but you aren't getting enough energon, so it won't heal as quickly. I'd better seal it up, though," he got out his torch. Megatronus shuttered his optics.

"This is going to hurt a lot more than it did when Spiral hit you."

Megatronus nodded once.

Photodraft wasn't wrong. Megatron shook with the effort of holding still. His faceplate still felt like it was on fire long after Photodraft took the torch away.

"I'm going to put a little plating on your back too," Photodraft said. "Do you want to lie down?"

"Give me a breem or so," Megatronus said, tempted to reach up and touch his faceplate, but knowing that was a bad idea. He un-shuttered his optics and got up.

"You fragging glitch," someone said. Megatronus looked over and saw the new mech facing off with Alloy, the largest mech in the group and the first one Photodraft had helped. He was flanked by several of the others. The new mech was outnumbered, but still scowling.

"You thought you could get away with that?" Alloy said. "Well, you were wrong."

"Wait," Megatronus walked over.

Alloy rounded on him. "You know what nearly happened? I swear we nearly tried to get up and stop Spiral."

"But you didn't," Megatronus said.

Alloy hesitated, then bowed his helm. "I'm sorry…"

"No, that's not what I meant," Megatronus said. "And just so we're clear, I don't want any of that in the future either. Attacking the guards is foolisness."

"We know that," Alloy said, meeting Megatronus's optics. "That's why we want to teach this glitch a lesson, so he knows that he can't bait us like that."

"He just doesn't understand," Megatronus slipped past Alloy. "He's new here. He's been broken for a long time."

The mech snarled. "Get away from me."

"This is a warning," Megatronus said. "Maybe making friends down here isn't smart, but neither is making enemies. If you can't join us, you can at least leave us in peace. You're lucky it's me you hurt, because if it was anyone else, I wouldn't be feeling so generous. We'll let you off this time. But if you get any of these mechs hurt in the future, including me, then I won't step in."

The new mech grabbed Megatronus and turned around to slam him into the wall. Open wounds ground against the rough cave surface and Megatronus gasped, blinded by the pain. Then Alloy grabbed the new mech and dragged him off, and Megatronus slumped to the ground.

He let someone pull him back to his pedes as the others converged on the new mech.

"Let him up!" Megatronus said.

"Shut up," Alloy growled, slamming the other mech into the ground.

They didn't hurt him very badly, and when they did finally let him up, he retreated into his corner. Photodraft checked Megatronus's wounds again to make sure they were clean enough, and then started putting plating on them. Megatronus focused on staying quiet so those around could recharge. He noticed Alloy scowling at him from across the room, though, and wasn't surprised when the mech approached as soon as Photodraft was done.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

Megatronus, who'd been lying face-down on the ground, got painfully to his knees. "Really?"

"Yes," Alloy growled. He grabbed Megatronus by the throat and pulled him up to his pedes. Megatronus let him, though Photodraft got up with a shout of alarm. "You think you're better than us," Alloy said. "Don't you? You think you're the only one with a spark in here, don't you?"

Megatronus met his optics.

"You think it's your job to protect us poor broken mechs who've been down here too long. Well I'm fragging sick of it, so you'd better either frag off or give us some more credit. I've got a spark, Megatronus. We all do, all right? So let us protect our friends, like you protect yours." He let go.

Megatronus relaxed, then nodded. "All right."

"Also," Alloy said. "If Spiral puts you at the back of the line, I'll make sure everyone gets their energon."

"Thank you."

Alloy nodded once, and walked away.

Photodraft let out a hissing, relieved vent.

"It's ok," Megatronus said. "Let's try to get some recharge before we have to get up for next shift."

Photodraft nodded.

* * *

The mech didn't try to steal anyone's energon next shift. The fact that Alloy stood next to Megatronus, arms crossed and glaring, might have had something to do with it. He watched, though, with a look in his optics that made Megatronus feel uneasy.

They went three shifts like that. Megatronus's wounds healed and Alloy stood next to him at the energon line, and the new mech just kept watching. Megatronus almost couldn't stand it, but he wasn't going to be the first to break the silence, so he waited. Eventually, he knew the mech would come to him.

At the end of the third shift, he was proven right. The old, scarred mech came over to where Megatronus and Photodraft were working on Mudskimmer's still-crushed pede. Photodraft was working, at least, and Megatronus was distracting Mudskimmer. The appendage was still far from healed, and Photodraft needed to check it for infection. Mudskimmer was telling a story about a femme he'd known before the mines, punctuated by winces and quiet gasps of pain, alongside occasional muttered apologies from Photodraft. Then the injured mech stopped mid-sentence and looked up with a guarded expression on his faceplate. Megatronus followed his gaze and saw the newcomer glaring down at him.

"Good off-shift, friend," Megatronus said.

The mech scowled.

Megatronus turned away, bracing himself in case the mech standing behind him decided to kick him. But he didn't.

"So are you going to try to escape?"

The question took him off guard and Megatronus turned around again. "What?"

"You're building up a little following here. If you're going to get us out of the mines, I want in."

"Absolutely not," Photodraft hissed. "If they think you're planning an escape attempt, they just kill you. There are plenty of poor sparks to replace you."

Alloy and a few others came over as well.

"Then what did you promise them?" the new mech asked, "To make them so loyal."

"Mech, I haven't promised anyone anything." That was a lie. He'd promised Rivet he'd be Photodraft's brother in the case that Rivet had died. "You can't make promises down here. You of all mechs ought to know that, seeing as you're so fully against our way of doing things."

"What's this?" Alloy asked.

"I asked if you're planning an escape attempt," the mech glared at Alloy.

Alloy looked to Megatronus, then back. "Are you trying to get us killed, mech? Is that what this is? You want to tell us you'll be loyal, then turn tail and go tell Spiral to get us killed?"

The mech glared.

"Well, it doesn't matter in any case," Megatronus said. "We haven't planned any escape attempts. I'm not sure where I'd start with that anyway, seeing as I don't have any memories of anywhere but the mines."

"Not that I couldn't get you killed just by pretending you were planning an escape attempt," the mech said.

"Didn't you already try that?" Megatronus asked. "Weren't you trying to warn Spiral that these mechs were loyal to each other."

"To you," the mech said. "And telling him you're planning an escape attempt is different. He'd kill you. All of you. I could do that."

They were all silent for a breem.

"Well," Megatronus said. "I suppose you could do that, and there wouldn't be much we could do to stop you."

"But I won't, so long as you count me in if you're planning to escape."

"But we aren't," Photodraft said. "So what use is that?"

"I think you could," the mech met Megatronus's optics, and Megatronus didn't trust the burning intensity in his expression. "I've never seen this before."

"We have nowhere to go," Megatronus said.

"Anywhere's better than this pit."

"It's not about getting out, it's about living as long as we can."

The mech glared. "You're a fool," he snapped, and stormed away.

They went back to working on Mudskimmer's pede.

"You know," Alloy said, "If you did plan an escape attempt, I'd back you. But I don't think we'd want _him_ along."

Megtronus half-smiled. "I can agree with you there, friend."

"I'm not your friend," Alloy planted a pede on his shoulder, and shoved him over. Megatronus grabbed Alloy's leg and pulled him down as well.

"Fine," he said. "No friends down here, right?"

Alloy and the others left them in peace.

"We are not planning an escape attempt," Photodraft said. "Please, Megatronus."

"Don't worry," Megatronus said, but he couldn't help thinking about the possibility. They were fighting. They weren't fighting each other, or the guards, they were fighting the mines themselves. And they were fighting a losing battle. Every time someone offlined, all of them took a step closer to that same fate, and they all knew that it would eventually be their turn. Alloy would pass on, Mudskimmer, Megatronus, Photodraft. All of them would be there one shift and gone the next. Would it be that way if they managed to escape? Everyone told him it would be better. There were medics, there was the sky. Megatronus desperately wanted to see the sky. If they could escape…

But he didn't know how they'd manage that. They could overpower the guards, but did anyone know the way out? And the guards would call for back-up, and they'd have to fight all the way, and even if they got out, so many of them would die. No. Escaping was not an option. Not unless he could find a way to get all of them out safely.

He would keep thinking about it though.


	8. Slavery

"Turn it off..!"

"Get down!"

Blue fire filled the atmosphere, and Megatronus shuttered his optics and turned away just in time for the blast to knock him over, searing his gray, paintless back plating. Then the shrapnel hit and he screamed, not because of the pain, but because he knew that this would cost him friends.

The heat lingered in the atmosphere, and Megatronus lay still for a moment, then dragged himself to his pedes, because as long as he was alive, he would keep getting up.

He looked for Photodraft first. The other mech was standing close by, online but leaking energon heavily from one arm.

It was nearly the end of the shift. Megatronus glanced at Spiral, who was scowling thoughtfully, and then turned and walked toward the blast. Some of the others were up by now, and rushing forward to check and see who was dead. A mech named Cavedark had been running the drill.

Megatronus knelt by a still frame. The mech was hot to the touch, but Megatronus turned him over.

"Alloy?"

Alloy moaned, staring up at the ceiling.

"Pit, Alloy…"

A half-grin worked its way onto Alloy's faceplate. "Megs…"

"Don't worry, you'll be all right. You think you can stand if I help you up?"

"Hey, glitches!" Spiral called.

Megatronus sucked in a deep vent and set his palms to the ground, praying...

"Here's how this is going to work. We currently hold record for least deaths in the past quarter. I'd like to try and keep it that way, so you can take back whoever you can carry. Hitch is they have to be able to work next shift. Anymech who can't… well, I'm sure you all get the idea. Clean up this mess and pile the corpses over here, and we'll leave. Shift's almost done anyway."

Megatronus sighed, relieved.

He helped Alloy sit up, then went to help try and dig Cavedark out of the rubble.

He carried ten mechs he knew to the corpse pile.

They had lost ten.

"Megatronus!" Photodraft called him over and he hurried to his friend's side. Photodraft was kneeling over a barely online mech. Megatronus knelt as well.

"Treadline," he said. "Treadline… no…"

Treadline had been with them from the beginning. His was the first designation Megatronus had learned, other than Rivet and Photodraft.

"It's ok," Treadline said quietly. "Mech, it's…"

"We'll take you back with us," Megatronus said. Photodraft nodded.

They would take care of him.

Megatronus got up. "We've got about twice as many who can walk as can't," he said. "Everyone pair up and find someone to support on the way back, all right?"

He made optic contact with several of them, and they nodded. Then he bent down to lift Treadline up.

"Here," Photodraft said, reaching out to take part of his weight.

"No," Megatronus said. "I can carry him. He's not going to be able to walk. You help with someone else."

Photodraft didn't nod or say anything, but he did get up and walk away with a dead look in his optics. Megatronus watched him, worried. The last time they'd had an explosion like this, Rivet had been offlined.

They made a slow, sad-looking procession back to the cave. Treadline slipped into stasis before they got there, and he wasn't the only one.

As soon as they got back and the guards left, Photodraft took over. He got out all of his tools and recruited Megatronus and a few others to help him, then told everyone who hadn't been badly hurt to go recharge.

They would need their strength. The next shift would come swiftly.

Photodraft started working.

He left Treadline alone, at first, and worked on some of the less serious injuries. Photodraft himself was injured too, and energon was still flowing down his arm. It looked painful, but when Megatronus suggested that he try to stop the leaking, all he got was a blank look.

Photodraft was going to fix everyone else first.

The others all went to recharge eventually, but Photodraft stayed up, and Megatronus stayed with him, watching him work and helping when he asked.

Finally, Photodraft went to repair Treadline. The mech was still alive, but deep in stasis. Photodraft knelt by him, holding his little welding torch and looking down at their friend.

"Photo?"

Photodraft's calm mask broke, and he set his torch down and buried his faceplate in his hands.

"Photo, don't…"

"I can't save him," Photodraft sobbed. "I can't save any of them. They're all just going to die. All of them are going to die, Primus, what am I doing?"

Megatronus picked up a scrap piece of temp plating and reached across Treadline's frame for the torch. Then he got up and came around to sit by Photodraft.

"I can't do it," Photodraft said. "I can't do it, Megatronus, they're all… they're all dead."

"Give me your arm," Megatronus said.

Photodraft shook his helm.

Megatronus used the torch to heat up the piece of plating while Photodraft sobbed into his hands. Then he gently pressed the soft piece of metal to Photodraft's arm, where the gash there had finally stopped leaking.

"Rivet's dead, Megatronus," Photodraft said. "He's _dead._ "

"I…" Megatronus said. "I know."

"I thought when he died I'd die with him. I didn't think I'd have to keep going. But I do. I have to keep fixing them, and no matter how many times I do it, they'll… they'll eventually die. All of them."

Megatronus looked down.

"I shouldn't even try. I shouldn't even try."

"Yes you should," Megatronus put an energon-stained hand on Photodraft's shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because… because we're getting out of here."

Photodraft froze.

"I'm not sure how yet," Megatronus said. "But you're right. If we stay here we'll all die, one by one, or ten by ten."

Treadline's spark went out.

Eleven.

"You think we can do it?"

"We can die trying or we can die down here," Megatronus said. "And who knows, maybe we'll get to see the sky."

"It's a bad time to start that sort of thing," Photodraft whispered. "We're about to get a whole group of new mechs. And after something like this… everyone's going to be a little colder to each other."

"True, but new mechs come around pretty quickly, and I doubt there's a spark among us who doesn't want to get out of here."

"What will we do about the guards?"

"Which ones? Our guards won't be a problem," Megatronus said. "And besides, now isn't the time for planning. You ought to rest. We've probably got less than ten breems before Spiral shows up."

"First," Photodraft said, "You need some repair. You can recharge, though… oh, Primus, I'm not going to get any recharge for a decaorn, not with so many hurt."

"I'm fine."

"We've discussed this," Photodraft said. "That's my call, not yours." He did some repairs on Megatronus, then went back to one of the earlier mechs he'd worked on, who needed more attention.

Then, the door opened and Spiral came in. He was a few breems early.

"Get up you useless pieces of scrap," he said. "Everyone up and get in line. No one helps anyone else, though. You've all got to stand on your own."

Megatronus got to his pedes, and Photodraft did so as well. The normal chatter and grumbling of getting in line for energon was missing as everyone watched Spiral approach their injured, some of whom hadn't woken up when he'd come in. He went to Alloy first. Megatronus gritted his denta as Spiral kicked Alloy hard enough to turn him over onto his faceplate.

"Get up!" Spiral said.

Alloy got slowly to his hands and knees, and then his pedes. He held his helm up defiantly as he walked over to the line. Mechs parted to give him a place in between Megatronus and the mech behind him. Alloy put a hand on Megatronus's shoulder and Megatronus braced himself so Alloy could lean on him.

The next mech couldn't get up.

Spiral got out his gun and shot him. The sound rang through the room, and Megatronus felt Alloy's hand tighten on his shoulder.

Megatronus watched as Spiral killed the next mech as well. He heard Photodraft sobbing quietly in front of him, but kept his optics on Spiral.

The next mech managed to get up in time, and limped to the line, where he was supported by three others. The mech after him was Treadline. Spiral could probably see that he was already dead, but he shot him anyway. Megatronus refused to look away. The loss of his friends was coupled in his emotional core with the frustration of this setback.

This could not happen one more time.

Two more of the injured were unable to get up, and Spiral killed them, then turned to face the line. "Let's move. Tatters, stay here and deal with the corpses."

The guard, Tatters, nodded, with a grim, almost angry look on his faceplate. Megatronus often wondered what he was doing down here in the mines. He wasn't as bad as the other guards. Maybe they could get him to help them.

Megatronus walked slowly and steadily through the energon line so Alloy could continue to lean on him.

They got their energon. Megatronus almost didn't want it but he drank it anyway, because he knew he'd have to pull extra weight this shift.

He could feel Alloy leaning more and more heavily on him as they walked through the mines. It got hard for him to walk too, but one of Alloy's other close friends came over and supported him from the other side.

"Thank you," Megatronus said.

"Both of you," Alloy muttered. "Thank both of you."

"This must be serious," Megatronus said. "You just _thanked_ me."

"Yeah," Alloy said.

"Does this mean we're friends?"

"Ha," Alloy said. "You _wish_ , Megs."

"Hey, keep it quiet," Megatronus said softly, checking to make sure the guards were out of audio range. "But I think we'd better start working on a way to get out of this pit."

Alloy grinned. "Hoping you'd say that some orn."

"Well, it's not going to be easy," Megatronus said. "But it'd be nice if we could spread the word quietly throughout the shift. I'd like to talk about it when we get back afterward."

The other mech supporting Alloy nodded.

"Thanks," Megatronus said.

They got to their section of the wall, and the team that had been working it picked up and left. Megatronus knew a few of them too. They were often working at the same spot as his team.

He and the other mech let go of Alloy, and they all went to work. He kept an optic on the larger mech as they approached the drills. Alloy could barely walk on his own. He shouldn't be out here working. He'd heal ten times as quickly if he had one shift to rest, but Spiral…

It was wrong that Spiral should have the last word on this—that he should be allowed to murder anyone he chose to. It was wrong, just… wrong. But what could Megatronus do about it?

He could try to get his friends out, but what would that matter in the long run? Even if he succeeded, they'd be replaced by more mechs for Spiral to lord over. And Spiral wasn't the only one—Megatronus's wasn't the only team. There were thousands of mechs in these mines, all of them with the mines' death sentence hanging over their helm. What could Megatronus do for them?

Right now he needed to work, and work hard to compensate for those who were too weak to pull their weight. So he threw himself into moving rubble. They struggled to keep up with the drills, but for about a joor, they managed.

Then Alloy, who had been slowly struggling to walk back and forth, carrying small amounts of debris, collapsed and didn't get up again. Megatronus saw him at the same time Spiral did, and the guard walked lazily over. Megatronus barely dared to vent, hoping that Alloy would get up before Spiral reached him.

"Up," Spiral said.

Alloy struggled slowly to his hands and knees and Spiral kicked him over again.

"I said get up! Faster!"

Alloy tried again, only to be knocked over a second time. Megatronus took a step forward. He couldn't stand by and watch this.

Spiral took out his gun. Megatronus froze.

"No!" Photodraft shoved Spiral's gun out of the way and stood between the guard and the other miner.

Spiral raised an optic ridge, and put away his gun. "Get out of the way."

"I spent joors fixing him. He just needs rest."

"Get out of the way," Spiral said again.

"Photo," Alloy got to his hands and knees again. "Get out of the fragging way."

"No," Photodraft said. "No, I will not let you kill him! I won't watch you kill anyone else ever again, you murdering glitch. I'm not scared of you."

Spiral pulled his whip out of subspace. "Get back to work," he growled.

Megatronus took another step forward.

"Photo, stand down," Alloy said.

Photodraft didn't move.

Spiral lifted the whip and brought it down to hit Photodraft across his faceplate. Photodraft was knocked to the side, but he got up again. There was a hopelessness in his optics, a quietness, like he was already dead.

Spiral pulled out his gun again "Fine."

"No!" Megatronus rushed forward. Spiral turned and shot at him, but missed. Megatronus tackled him, trying to pry the weapon out of his hand. The other guards converged on them, but Megatronus took the gun and put it to Spiral's helm. "Don't move," he hissed.

One of the other guards slowly raised his hand to his helm, probably comming for backup.

"I will kill him," Megatronus said. "Spiral, tell them to hold still."

Spiral met his optics and grinned. "That gun's mine. It won't fire for you."

Megatronus narrowed his optics, and Spiral used his momentary confusion to shove him off. The other two guards leaped at him. There would normally be three, but Tatters wasn't there. Megatronus dodged a few shots, and knocked one of them down. He was dead. Primus, he was dead.

Well, he might as well take a few of them with him.

Then another miner joined the fight, jumping on Spiral from behind.

And another.

In less than a breem, they had brought the guards down, taken their weapons, and pinned them to the ground.

"Now what?" someone asked.

"Well, we're all dead mechs for one," Megatronus said. "I guess we might as well run for it…"

Bad timing. So many could barely walk. He looked around and saw determination in the others' optics.

"No," he said. "Let's not try that. We can pin all of this on me, and they'll kill me, but the rest of you…"

"No, Megs," Alloy said. He was leaning heavily on another miner. "We're not letting you do that."

"Well, we'd better do something fast," Photodraft said. "I… I'm sorry, Megatronus."

"It's ok," Megatronus said. "Right, let's offline these three and…"

"Back away from the guards! Back toward the wall, team gamma five."

Guards filled both ends of the hallway.

Megatronus looked around, trying to think of a way out of this. They'd found a pocket of crystals, and the blue prisms were waiting in bins out by the path. The guards couldn't shoot those without setting off an explosion.

"Leave the guards and back away, and we'll let you live!"

Let them live?

There was no life in this pit.

Megatronus let out a wordless roar and ran for the bins of energon crystals. A few of the guards shot at him, but stopped when they saw what he was about to do. Some of the other miners saw it too and ran to join him.

He lifted one of the bins and swung it around, scattering crystals everywhere.

"Stop shooting!" the mech who looked to be in charge of the other guards said. "Don't use energy weapons! Stop them!"

Megatronus fought.

He fell into a rhythm, blocking, ducking, throwing. The crystal fragments spread across the ground glowed faintly, lighting his dance. Guards fell, and his friends fell, but he stood.

He didn't notice as more and more reinforcements were brought in. He didn't notice when Mudskimmer died with a knife in his spark, or when Photodraft sank to the ground with a scream, clutching a broken arm. He didn't notice when he was the last miner standing.

And then, after what seemed mere moments to him, he was overwhelmed and weighed down. Stasis cuffs were forced onto his arms and he was shoved to his knees.

He looked up.

Guards lay scattered among the crystals. Streams of energon ran between the rubble. None of his friends were standing.

What had he done?

A guard walked into his line of sight. Spiral. He met the mech's optics and realized he'd never really seen Spiral angry before.

Photodraft…

"What a mess," an unfamiliar voice said, and a mech stepped into the carnage. "Whose crew was this?"

"Mine, sir," Spiral said, through gritted denta. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize he was so dangerous." He shot Megatronus a glare.

Megatronus hadn't realized he was so dangerous either.

Who was he?

"This is a waste," the mech said. "Do you know how many guards we'll have to replace because of this? It's coming from your pay, do you understand."

"But…" Spiral said.

"Dispose of the rest of this crew," the mech said. "All of them… except that one, I want him," he pointed at Megatronus. "Take him to…"

"Wait," Spiral said. "He should watch them die."

The other mech narrowed his optics. "Fine," he said. "But if you kill him, you'll take his place. I doubt you'll last very long."

Megatronus wasn't listening. The other mech started organizing the guards, having them start dragging away corpses and gather the scattered energon crystals. Spiral, however, pulled out his gun. He walked through the carnage, stopping every once in a while to shoot a miner.

Then he came to Photodraft.

"No," Megatronus struggled, but the guards piled on top of him held him back.

Spiral got out his whip.

"Photodraft!"

Photodraft got to his hands and knees, shaking. He looked up.

Spiral brought the whip down across Photodraft's back, and the smaller mech collapsed again. Spiral raised the whip a second time.

"Stop!" Megatronus sobbed. "Stop, stop…"

Spiral let out a wordless cry of rage and brought the whip down again and again, as Photodraft screamed and Megatronus struggled.

This was his fault—he'd gotten them all killed.

Eventually, Photodraft stopped screaming and lay on the ground in a puddle of his own energon, and Megatronus went limp, and Spiral pulled out his gun and shot Photodraft's helm again and again until it was a blackened shell filled with ash and sparking cables.

Megatronus couldn't look away as Spiral finished his round, and everyone he had ever cared about was killed.

Then Spiral came over to him and knelt down in front of him.

"You know, for the first time since you showed up, I'm perfectly happy to let you live," he said, with a smirk.

Megatronus gritted his denta and refused to look at the guard.

Spiral laughed, and Megatronus felt something snap inside of him. Spiral was still laughing as the darkness closed in, replacing the gray and glowing blue floor of the tunnel with blackness.


	9. To Fight

When Megatronus onlined, he was in a small, empty room that he had definitely never seen before. The walls were painted a sort of off-white, and it was rectangular, not round like the tunnels or misshapen like the cave. He had been recharging on a raised platform instead of the ground and, other than that, the room was completely empty.

Megatronus sat up, wincing. He'd been injured, and he ached all over, but not as badly as he ought to. Someone must have done repairs on him.

Not Photodraft, though.

Photodraft was dead.

Megatronus shuttered his optics, trying to hold back the torrent of emotion that accompanied the thought. He was alone again. Everyone he had ever known was dead.

Part of him wanted to wonder where he was and why, but a larger part didn't care. A larger part of him just wanted to be dead too. He had been told that when you died, your spark rejoined those of your friends and ancestors in the Well of Allsparks. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he'd rather risk that than continue on alone.

Why was he still here? It had been his fault, so why had they killed everyone but him?

And where was he?

Eventually, the questions gained enough traction to drag him up off of the berth. He found he was chained to the wall, but the chain was long enough that he could get nearly to the door at the far end of the room.

It was so white in here, and clean. What was this place?

A prison? The others had talked about prisons sometimes, but Megatronus had no way of knowing whether it was like this.

All he could do was wait for someone to come in and tell him what was going on.

He was waiting for a long time but eventually, after what seemed like forever, the door opened. He looked up and was surprised to see a familiar faceplate. It was the mech who'd told Spiral to kill everyone. He had four guards with him, and he watched Megatronus thoughtfully for a while before speaking.

"Where did you train?"

"Train?" Megatronus asked.

"You offlined five of my guards and injured fourteen more. Don't try to tell me you never learned how to fight."

"I don't have memories before the mines," Megatronus said.

"What's your designation?"

"Megatronus."

The mech snorted. "Think you're funny, do you?"

Megatronus glared at him. "So what am I doing here?"

The guards took a step forward, but the mech raised a hand and they stopped. "The first thing you need to know," he said, "Is that I am not some petty mine crew guard. I am what you'd call a supervisor."

Megatronus should probably have been impressed and afraid, but he wasn't. He didn't care what this mech could do to him.

"Knowing that," the supervisor said, "I expect you to be civil with me. If you are, and if you cooperate, you may find yourself better off than you were in the mines… That is, if you survive."

Megatronus met the supervisor's optics, a little surprised. "If I…survive?"

"Oh, that's right," the mech said. "You haven't been told, have you? You're a gladiator now, _Megatronus_."

"I… what?"

"You will participate in your first fight in two orns, once your injuries have had sufficient time to heal. If you don't disappoint me, then things will go well for you. You might even be afforded the freedom to leave this room, if you behave… What? Don't just stare at me."

"You want me to be a gladiator?"

"You _will_ be one," the supervisor said. "How long that lasts is up to you, of course, but the crowd doesn't appreciate it when you refuse to put up a fight. You took out nearly twenty guards, Megatronus. You didn't think we'd let your talent go to waste."

Megatronus took a deep vent and let it out slowly. Photodraft had told him once that he could be a gladiator—that things would be better for him if he was. He would get more energon, and freedom, and medical attention.

He would have to fight. But fighting had never seemed difficult.

"Well?" the supervisor asked.

Megatronus looked up. Well what? He didn't have a choice in the matter, did he? Was he being given an opportunity to speak? Why would a supervisor want to listen to anything he had to say?

"Are you going to cooperate?"

"I suppose so."

"Good," the supervisor said, and waved one of the guards forward. The guard walked forward and unchained Megatronus, who had to overcome the momentary temptation to attack him. He was still fighting the urge when the guard pulled a cube of energon from subspace and handed it to him.

The other mech hesitated for a moment after Megatronus took it, as if waiting for a 'thank you' or something. Megatronus ignored him and stared at the energon in his hands instead. He wasn't sure if he wanted this. It made him think of the cave floor, bathed in the energon of his friends.

"A medic will come in an orn to be certain you are healing."

Megatronus looked up.

"Do well, and you will be afforded privileges."

The supervisor and his guards left the room.

Megatronus looked down at the energon again. He could smell it.

He reached down to set it upright on the ground and then stared at the door for a long time.

So he was a gladiator now.

This was a dream, this was all just a horrible dream. He got up and started pacing the room. There had to be a way to bring them back. Photodraft, Alloy, Mudskimmer, Treadline…

He'd watched each of them offline. He hadn't been able to save them, and here he was, still alive and all alone. Why? Why was _he_ still alive? What had he done to deserve this? What crime from his forgotten past had sent him to the mines?

Why was he different?

Megatronus stopped at the door and pressed himself against it. "Why?" he asked. "Primus, why? What did I do? Why didn't you stop this from happening?" He shuttered his optics. "Why! Answer me! If you're really there, then tell me _why!_ "

There was nothing but silence.

Megatronus sank slowly to the ground, too full of misery and frustration to weep. Primus wasn't going to help him. Primus didn't care, did he? No one cared. No one cared about mechs like Photodraft or Rivet. No one would tell their creators that they had been killed. No one would write their designations down anywhere. They might as well have never existed.

Photodraft had worked so hard. He had repaired the others so many times, lost so much recharge. He hadn't given up on caring, and it hadn't gotten him anywhere at all. Now he was dead and no one would remember him.

Megatronus wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He felt as if the whole world was pressing down on him with its emptiness and pointlessness. There was no meaning, no reason to keep going, no reason to live when you'd only die eventually. Photodraft hadn't made a difference. Rivet hadn't made a difference.

Megatronus had. He'd gotten them all killed.

Then maybe he hadn't. If he hadn't shown up, they might have died earlier.

It was all pointless. They were gone, and like so many others, they would be forgotten.

"No," Megatronus said out loud. "No, I won't."

He stood slowly.

"They killed Treadline, they killed Alloy and Photodraft and Mudskimmer, and Cavedark, and Rivet, and…"

He listed the names of those he'd known who had died in the mines, thinking back even to those whose designations he had never learned. Those mechs had had designations.

"I won't forget them," he said. " _I_ won't forget them and so at least until I'm gone, someone will remember them." He glitched on the last few words, and his voice sputtered out, but he had gotten to his pedes. He would keep getting up again.

Before he was gone, he had to find Spiral and kill him.

Before he was gone, he had to _do_ something about this. There were mechs dying in the mines—even as his spark pulsed, others went out. And it was wrong. There were _better_ was to run things. Someone was responsible for this, and if Megatronus couldn't save anyone, at least he could try to find out whose fault this was and _make them pay._

Rage burned silently within him, supporting him, strengthening him. It was a bottomless, eternal rage that he was certain could fuel him indefinitely.

They had chosen to let him live.

He would make sure they regretted it.

* * *

Megatronus stood with only a thin piece of metal in between him and the world he had never seen before. The door would open within a breem.

He wasn't sure if he was ready.

He had been briefed on the rules the joor before. If his opponent wasn't mecha, he had to kill or be killed. If he was fighting another mech, there was the possibility of mercy, but only after a good fight.

He felt calm—it was almost as if someone else was standing in front of this door, not him.

He didn't fear for his life. He doubted the universe would be so kind as to kill him.

The door opened, and Megatronus walked out into the arena as he had been told to do.

It was a wide, circular pit, with smooth walls, and all around the edges were stands. Megatronus had never seen so many mecha.

He had never been somewhere so bright.

He looked up for the source of the light and saw the sky.

It was a deep color, blue like energon, but darker, and the light, the sun, was a brilliant circle hovering just above the stands. He could feel its warmth. He had never felt warmth coming from a light before, except during energon explosions.

A sound rose from the crowd, like the roar of a thousand drills, but Megatronus was still looking at the sky.

There was no end to it, no ceiling. He had known this of course, but seeing it was different.

How far away was that sun?

A new, shrieking sound brought him back down to his present situation, and he made optic contact with a large _something_ across the ring from him. It had a beak-like mouth, wide, flat optics, and ragged-looking wings that ended in claws.

Was this the sort of thing they normally pitted you against in your first fight?

Megatronus watched it calmly. It shifted, bobbing its helm back and forth on its long neck, seeming to judge him.

Megatronus stepped forward, and it mirrored him, stalking closer to the center of the circle. For the first time since his friends had died, Megatronus felt alive, and almost afraid. This thing looked like it could tear him to pieces, and that would _hurt._ He knew how to fight, of course, but he had never actually learned. What if his skill deserted him now, when his life depended on it?

He couldn't let himself think too hard or he wouldn't be able to do this.

The creature might have seen his momentary hesitation, and it lunged forward, beak snapping.

Megatronus ducked away from it, just barely avoiding the loss of an arm. The crowd responded. He hadn't even _thought_ about the fact that mecha would be watching him.

The creature tried to claw him with one of its wing-like legs, but he threw himself out of the way and got up, ready now.

The sky was too vast and the crowd was too loud and the light was too bright.

But Megatronus knew how to balance.

They had given him a short blade, and he pulled it out of subspace now and watched the sun reflect off of it for an instant before returning his attention to the creature.

The thing's mad optics stared at him and it started to circle, so he mirrored it, balancing, watching. When it lunged forward, he would step to the side, when it backed up, he would advance. It shrieked and the sound grated in his audios. With his spark pulsing erratically, he attacked. It snapped at him, and he backed away again.

The tone of the crowd had darkened. They wanted energon on the ground and screaming and dying, not a dance.

The creature lunged and this time, Megatronus did not step out of the way. With a shout, he rushed forward, which startled the monster enough to distract it. His blade was sharp. It sheared through one of the creature's arms before the thing could react.

Its cry of pain and rage was drowned out in the thunder in the stands.

Megatronus did not wait. He lunged forward again, too eagerly. The creature's beak closed on his side, and he felt things bend and snap inside of him as he struggled in its grasp. It lifted him high and threw him with enough force to send him soaring across the arena. He crashed into the smooth wall, bounced off, and hit the ground. The force of the impact rolled him twice before he finally came to rest.

He had lost his blade.

Megatronus rolled over and _willed_ himself to his pedes.

The creature was bearing down on him, enraged, murderous.

Megatronus could feel energon pooling inside of him, but it didn't hurt as much as Spiral's whip.

The creature roared and Megatronus roared back at it. He dodged out of the way just as it reached him, letting it crash into the wall behind him. He ran for the center, where he'd left his blade, but running hurt, and it was much faster than him. He tried to dodge out of its way, but its wing hit him, knocking him down. Before he could get up again, it was on top of him, tearing at him with its still-attached claw. Megatronus, unwilling to let this mindless horror get the better of him so easily, reached up past its beak, grabbed one of its big, flat optics, and _yanked_. It backed away with a hissing sound, and Megatronus struggled to his pedes again. He was close to his blade. So close.

He started trying to walk toward the weapon, but the creature kept itself in between him and his hope for survival. He was leaking heavily now, and it was only a matter of time before he collapsed. He needed to get past it and get that blade back, but this _thing_ was guarding it.

The blade… wasn't the only weapon on this field.

He let the creature push him back and then drive him toward the wall again. The claw he had cut off was just behind him. If he tripped over it, the creature would take advantage of that and jump on him.

He took a step back, feeling dizzy and giddy.

Another step. The back of his pede was touching the clawed arm. He rolled backward, pretending to trip, and his opponent took the bait, but as he fell, he reached down and took hold of the severed limb, right at the base of one of the long, sharp claws.

He finished the roll and was back on his pedes just as the creature crashed down on the spot he would have been if he had actually fallen over.

He didn't give it time to recover.

In an instant, the creature's own claw was buried deep in its optic.

It screeched and reared up, and Megatronus stumbled past it and ran to retrieve his blade. Vents stalling, and tanks boiling, he picked it up and turned around.

The creature threw its weight into him and he flew halfway across the arena, clutching the blade. It came bearing down on him, screeching.

Megatronus got slowly, painfully, back up and waited for it to reach him.

At the last moment, he ducked under its vicious beak and rammed the blade deep into its chassis, through its armor and into its spark chamber. It collapsed on top of him, pinning him to the ground, and he wasn't sure if the rushing in his audios was the crowd cheering, or just static.

There was still one thing he needed to do.

With a deep groan, he braced himself against the ground and _lifted._

The creature rose as he struggled to straighten his knees, and stand up one last time.

Wires snapped inside of him but he heaved the creature up and off to the side and stood.

The sky above was the color of energon, but darker. The sun was a great optic, watching silently in contrast to the crowd's cheering.

Megatronus picked up his blade and walked, leaving a trail of blue footprints all the way out of the ring and back through the now-open doors to the small anteroom, where he collapsed and his broken systems shut down.

* * *

Megatronus came online to pain and silence. He waited for an instant, with his optics shuttered, for Spiral's shouting to wake him fully so that he could get up and get into line for energon.

And then he remembered, and the pain wasn't just physical anymore.

Everyone was dead. He was alone.

He didn't move until he heard the sound of a door opening. Then he opened his optics.

Two guards came in, followed by another mech Megatronus hadn't seen before. He had the symbols of a medic painted on him, though. Megatronus had already come to recognize those.

He came over to Megatronus's berth and reached down to touch something on the side of it. Megatronus felt suddenly strange, as if gravity had increased. He tried to sit up, but found he couldn't. He couldn't move at all. He was magnetized to the berth.

The guards came to stand at either end of where Megatronus lay, looking bored, as the medic scanned him, then pulled on a piece of armor that was out of place. Megatronus cried out, and the medic shot him a glare. "You're fine."

Megatronus shuttered his optics and gritted his denta as the medic worked, waiting for it to be over. He wasn't half as gentle as Photodraft had always been. When he was finally done, he released Megatronus from the berth, and backed away.

He and the guards left, and after a breem or so, Megatronus sat up with a moan. They'd left some energon for him by the door. He took it and was still sipping it when the supervisor came in, flanked by more guards.

They had more impressive guards for the gladiators. In his condition, Megatronus probably couldn't fight his way through a crowd of them, especially with their energon prods.

Those things probably couldn't cut you up like the whips they gave to the miner guards though. They didn't want to damage their precious gladiators.

"Well," the supervisor said. Megatronus set his energon down and looked up at the mech who had chosen to put him here.

The supervisor didn't look scared. He should have been.

"Well," Megatronus repeated.

"Don't talk back to me," the supervisor glared at him.

"Apologies," Memgatronus glared back.

"You did quite well in your first match."

Megatronus shrugged, and managed not to wince. "You gave me a very worthy opponent. Are first matches normally that dangerous, or am I not as impressive as I thought?"

The supervisor looked a little nervous for a moment, or at least confused. Then his expression darkened. "If you absolutely must know, the Roc was not meant to be an opponent, but a punishment. It liked to kill its prey slowly. You didn't think we'd actually let you live after you offlined so many guards, did you?"

Megatronus shrugged. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't know you cared about the guards down in the mines, I thought you just wanted me to make you more money."

The supervisor waved his guards forward, and Megatronus steeled himself, but still shouted in pain when a live energon prod was rammed into his already aching side.

"I can still have you killed," the supervisor said. "And claim that you died of your injuries."

Megatronus looked up at him.

He would not beg for his life.

"You did quite well," the supervisor said again. "Now we have to replace the Roc."

That sounded like bad news for Megatronus. How would they punish him?

"We would have you killed, but, you caught Clench's attention. He just happened to be watching that match, and he wants you to fight again in a decaorn. By then, your injuries should have healed enough that you can fight. You will have some training, in the meantime."

Megatronus took in a deep vent, and nodded.

"Your trainer won't be as tolerant as me."

"Good."

The supervisor shook his helm, and Megatronus felt the energon prod again.

Then they left. Megatronus stared at the door for a long time after they were gone. He had nothing to do but sit. He wouldn't mind training, especially if it would teach him more about fighting and give him something useful to work on. He didn't mind getting enough energon, but he almost missed the hard, processor-numbing work of the mines.

He'd gladly go back to it if he could have Photodraft and the others online again. That hadn't been so bad.

Photodraft had once told him that being a gladiator would be better, but it most certainly was not. There was no one to talk to, for one thing, and nothing to do but get too much recharge, and think about what he had lost.

He paced for a few joors, ignoring his protesting side, and eventually settled on planning how to find Spiral and kill him.


	10. Lessons

He was awake two orns later when the guards came to get him. He didn't ask any questions when they beckoned for him to come out the door, and he walked calmly between them, memorizing the turns they took.

They came eventually to a high-ceilinged cavern. The walls had been carved out to make a circular arena that was roughly the same size as the one Megatron had fought the roc in, except that this one wasn't open to the sky.

Two mechs stood to the side of the room, watching as Megatronus came in. They had been talking, but they stopped when he entered. The guards stood just inside the doors, and Megatronus hesitated, unsure if he was supposed to approach the other two.

The smaller of the two mechs narrowed his optics. "Get out."

Megatronus thought for a moment that the mech was addressing him, but then he heard the guards behind him move, and looked to see them exit the room and close the doors behind themselves.

"C'mere," the smaller mech said.

Megatronus crossed the empty room until he was standing just in front of this other mech, who was most certainly the one in charge, despite his diminutive size.

"So. You're the roc slayer."

Megatronus nodded.

"Pathetic," the small mech scowled. "You're just a miner. Don't even have a paint job. It was probably a fluke of some sort, what do you think?" he glanced over his shoulder at the other mech, who shrugged, leaning casually against the wall.

He was tall and broad and impressive-looking. He was painted primarily green, though it was hard to tell the exact shade in the dim lighting. He caught Megatronus's gaze and smirked.

"How about you?" the smaller mech said, rounding on Megatronus again. "You think you actually managed to kill that thing due to skill, you pathetic little scrap heap?"

Megatronus chose his words carefully. "I don't know. I don't have anything to use as a reference, because I've never seen anyone fight a roc before."

"Oooooh," the smaller mech said. "Think you're clever, don't you?"

Megatronus shook his helm. "I don't know, maybe."

"Anything you _do_ know?" the challenge in the mech's voice was too much encouragement.

"I know this whole world is glitched," Megatronus said.

The smaller mech snorted. "Well, I can't argue with that. Ok, I like you. But you still haven't told me if you can fight."

"Apparently I can," Megatronus said. "But my memories only go back about three quarters of a vorn, when I first showed up in the mines, so I don't know when I trained, if I ever did. I just know how to balance."

"Hmmm," the smaller mech said. "Well, let's find out. Ready, killer?"

The larger mech rolled his optics. "What am I, your attack dog?"

"Just get your aft off the wall."

The mech pushed away from the wall and beckoned Megatronus out toward the center of the cavern. He was larger than Megatronus, and far more impressive. Megatronus waited for him to make the first move. He was big. He'd be slow…

Suddenly, Megatronus felt his pedes swept out from under him. He landed on his back, hard, and the other mech planted a pede on his chassis right above his spark chamber.

Megatronus barely had time to be surprised before the other mech backed off with a laugh, and reached down to help Megatronus up.

Megatronus grabbed his hand and pulled him down, twisting to try to land on top of him. The mech's optics lit brighter and they grappled on the ground for a few moments, before Megatronus pulled away, and they both stood again.

"Ready now?" the larger mech asked.

Megatronus didn't answer, just took half a step back, shifting so he felt balanced. The larger mech attacked again, and Megatronus evaded him, falling into familiar footwork that he had never, in his memory, learned. The other mech was fast, but Megatronus was fast too, and they circled each other, feinting and dodging, until the larger mech managed to ram his barbed shoulder into Megatronus's faceplate, sending him toppling backward.

"Stop!" the smaller mech barked.

Megatronus got up and glanced over at him.

"You know what that was?" he asked.

Megatronus shook his helm.

"'bout you, Springer?"

The green mech shrugged. "What he was doing? It was pretty good, maybe some kind of… I don't know."

"Circuit-Su," the smaller mech said. "Pretty useless if you want to do any _real_ fighting. But I guess it's not as bad as it could be. Still not sure how you killed the roc, but ok, maybe you aren't completely hopeless. We have to get you an upgrade, though. What's your designation, little miner?"

"Megatronus."

The mech snorted. "Wow." He crossed his arms. "Real scary."

Megatronus shrugged. "It's probably not my actual designation."

"Whatever," the mech said. "You aren't afraid of me, are you?"

"I wasn't particularly scared of the roc."

"Well, I'm a slagging lot more dangerous than the roc." Springer, backed away as the smaller mech approached.

Megatronus met his bright, violet optics.

Then the mech rushed him. He side-stepped, but the other mech moved with him, then jumped and slammed both pedes into Megatronus's knee, which _snapped._

Then, before he had time to react, the smaller mech crashed into his shoulder. He toppled with a scream and his attacker landed on top of him and knelt, digging his clawed fingers into the plating just above Megatronus's spark chamber. Megatronus gritted his denta and refused to cry out again.

"I can kill you." The other mech leaned forward so his faceplate was all Megatronus could see, "Anytime you like. I can get away with it too. So in this room, I am your god, do you understand?"

Megatronus nodded.

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same file." He got up. "You're going to want to get a medic to look at that knee."

Megatronus groaned as he sat up. Getting to his pedes was a little more difficult, especially since his knee wanted to give out on him, and his shoulder felt cracked as well. But he made it after a few, painful astroseconds. "You got it, god," he said.

The smaller mech shot an incredulous grin at him. "See, you're still not scared."

"If I give you a reason to kill me, I'll be terrified. I promise."

"I like him too," Springer said.

"Yeah," the smaller mech nodded. "Megatronus, this is Springer. He's one of Kaon's best gladiators. Pray to Primus and the Allspark and even Unicron that you don't go against him in the ring. Though he likes you, so maybe he'll offer you mercy after he slams your sorry skidplate into the dirt a couple hundred times."

Megatronus nodded. "Should I pray to you too?"

"Nope. I'm not that kind of god. I'd probably put you two in the ring together just for the pit of it. Don't push your luck, mechling, you have to earn the right to be sarcastic in this place, and if I get annoyed, there goes your other knee. You can call me Casurus for now."

"All right," Megatronus said.

"Now, one of the things that really tells me whether you're gladiator material or not is how you fight while you're injured. Springer?"

Springer hesitated, then stepped forward. "Sorry, mech," he said.

"Don't worry," Megatronus said, getting into a ready stance that didn't put too much weight on his bad knee. "I'm ready."

* * *

Pain was a good teacher, Megatronus had decided. And Casurus's approval was a good motivation, because it meant he'd laugh when you talked back to him instead of break your limbs. It was hard, but Megatronus was learning, and he had never been afraid of pain. After his first meeting with Casurus, Megatronus needed to recover for a few orns, but then training had resumed. Megatronus was already learning, though he wasn't nearly as good as Springer.

He set that as his goal: eventually, he would be able to defeat the more experienced gladiator in a fight. And every orn he practiced he was getting a tiny bit closer to that goal.

The orn of his second fight arrived. Casurus came to talk to him beforehand.

"Ok, Megsie," he said, standing alone in the doorway. Unlike the other mecha in positions of power, he never brought guards with him. "You're fighting Snarl."

Megatronus stood, muttering. "And mecha make fun of _my_ designation,"

Casururs raised an optic ridge.

"I've never heard of him."

"'Course you haven't, stupid fragger, you haven't talked to anymech but Springer and I since you killed the roc. You want my advice or not?"

"Yes, please,"

"He's a dinobot…"

"A what?"

Casurus glared at him and Megatronus refused to look away.

"I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what that is."

"Means he's got a beast mode instead of a regular alt mode. They tend to be big, slow, and stupid, and Snarl's no exception. He shouldn't be a problem for you, just keep out of his way until he collapses of exhaustion. He's pretty clumsy, but if he does get in a lucky hit, stay down, ok? He'll kill you if you get back up, and then _I'll_ kill you afterward, you get it?"

"Ok," Megatronus said.

"You've got about a joor before they come and get you. Be ready."

Megatronus nodded, and Casurus walked away and the door closed behind him.

Once he was gone, Megatronus sat on the floor and turned his optics and audios off. He wasn't really sure what he was doing or why, but it felt right. It was good to block everything out and focus on his venting, letting his processor clear itself before training or a fight.

After about twenty breems, he brought his audial and visual functions back online and thought about what Casurus had told him.

He was fighting a larger opponent, who was slow and clumsy, but still dangerous. He probably wouldn't want to kill this other gladiator if he won. Springer had told him once that they didn't necessarily like it if you killed someone who could make them more credit in the future. It was all about credit to the supervisors.

To the gladiators though, it wasn't that different from the mines. The only difference was that skill increased your chance of survival.

By the time the guards came for him, he was more than ready. He was ready to see the sky again, and listen to the crowd and feel the energy of the fight coursing through him.

He walked out with the guards to the arena again. The sky was was completely different this time. Black, but speckled with an enormous number of tiny lights. Megatronus's processor had a word for them, but he could never have imagined the _feeling_ that came from looking at them.

There were big blinding floodlights too, illuminating the arena, and making it hard to look up at the crowd.

And, standing on the opposite side of the ring, there was a mech large enough to pick up a mining drill and throw it.

Megatronus wondered whether he should be afraid. Sometimes Casurus remarked that he wasn't, as if there were something surprising or wrong about that. Megatronus walked calmly toward the center of the circular arena. He was halfway there when the other mech bellowed and charged at him, transforming into some sort of creature—something four-legged.

Megatronus dodged out of the way, and spun around, keeping his opponent in his vision. This went on for a few breems, and the audience seemed to get a little tired of it. Megatronus was getting bored too.

Next time he dodged Snarl's charge, he caught the other mech's shoulder and swung up onto his back. The roar of approval from the stands was far too encouraging.

Snarl came to a skidding stop and transformed, throwing Megatronus off of him with an enraged roar. Megatronus rolled and got up again.

The mech swung an enormous fist at him, but Megatronus stepped away so it passed less than a meter away from his faceplate. He felt the wind from it and a thrill went down his back struts.

Where had he felt that before?

* * *

"Great big show-off." Casurus said, scowling down at the fight.

Springer shrugged. Megatronus had talent, that much was certain, and no sense of self-preservation. It made him likable. If he didn't get killed early on, he'd make a great gladiator. "Are you going to get him an upgrade soon?" he asked. "He's kind of falling apart."

"I'd noticed," Casurus said. "Oh, there he goes."

Megatronus got too close, and Snarl's fist clipped him, sending him flying. The younger gladiator got back to his pedes quickly though. He didn't seem hurt, but Springer had already learned you couldn't always tell when Megatronus was hurt.

He leaned forward to watch, as Megatronus continued to taunt Snarl, pulling off some spectacularly close calls. Then Snarl hit him.

Full on.

"Yep," Casurus said. "What'd I tell you. Now he'd better stay down."

Springer wasn't sure if Megatronus was even capable of getting back up after a hit like that. But then he started trying to get back to his pedes again. Springer winced in sympathy as Megatronus staggered upright. Snarl transformed and charged.

Slag it. Megatronus wasn't going to need an upgrade after this. He was just going to need a broom and a transport to the scrapyard.

The audience gasped and cheered as Megatronus was slammed into the wall, then trampled. This time, he didn't get up again. Snarl transformed back to root mode and raised a fist into the air, to heavy cheering.

"Fragging idiot," Casurus growled, and got up. He left Springer sitting there.

There _was_ a chance that Megatronus wasn't completely offline. Springer hoped that was the case, but he wouldn't be too disappointed if the younger gladiator was dead.

This sort of thing happened from time to time.

It was an occupational hazard.

* * *

"I told you _not to get up again!_ "

Megatronus moaned, then screamed as pain flared in his arm.

"I don't slagging care if you die, but when I tell you to do something, you'd better slagging _do it!_ "

Megatronus only had time to scream once more, before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

When he woke up, things were different.

He sat up, disoriented. He was in the same room he'd woken up in the past several times, only… the floor was farther away. He looked down at himself and realized _he_ was the difference. He stood and his helm came closer to the ceiling than it had before. Much closer. His fingers were blunt claws, and his shoulders were spiked. He wished he had a mirror so he could see what he looked like. He still didn't have a paint job—he was factory gray right now—but other than that, he looked nothing like he had before.

Before too long, some guards came to get him. They took him to the training area. Springer was there, and Casurus, and another mech who Megatronus didn't know.

"Hey," Springer grinned. "That's cool. They did a good job, huh?"

Casurus scowled. "I guess. Had to make you impressive, you know, with a designation like _Megatronus._ Well, you'll need a paint job."

"I don't even know what I look like, really."

"Well, we'd better fix that," Springer said. "Casurus, can we take the orn off?"

"Go," Casurus said. "I don't want to deal with you fraggers this orn anyway."

Springer beckoned Megatronus over, and Megatronus crossed the room. "Hey, this is Rockslide," Springer said. "He's a friend of mine. Rockslide, this is Megatronus."

"Nice to meet you," the other mech said, and punched Megatronus in the shoulder. "You're the one who killed the Roc in his first fight, right?"

Megatronus shrugged. "Beginner's luck, I guess. My second fight didn't go so well."

Springer shook his helm. "Hey, everymech loses once in a while."

"Except for Springer," Rockslide said.

The green gladiator grinned. "Yeah, that's true. Come on."

Megatronus followed the other two out a different door, one he'd never been through before.

"Let's stop by my room, I've got a mirror," Springer said. They took him to a room that was slightly larger than Megatronus's, and had a good deal more decoration, including a floor-length mirror. Megatronus stood in front of the polished piece of metal and stared at himself.

He was tall and broad and intimidating—even taller than Springer. He wasn't sure if the extra height and mass were necessarily a good thing, though, because they'd slow him down. Well… Springer was fast. Megatronus could learn to be fast.

His optics were red, and peered out demonically from under his decorative-looking optic ridges. He looked like a statue—ornamental and crafted almost more for visual appeal than for functionality. He couldn't say that he disliked his new frame—it was certainly impressive. But he didn't want to forget who he'd been before. He didn't want to forget Rivet and Photodraft and his other friends who'd died in the mines.

"You know what?" he said. "I think I like this just the way it is. I don't want a paint job. It'll be a lot of trouble. It'll get ruined almost every fight anyway."

"Hmmm," Rockslide said. "You know, I might just agree with you there."

"You'd make a statement, at least," Springer said. "I mean, if you did get a paint job, I'd say something like red, or black. If you don't, I'd say at least get your armor polished. Silver's a good color."

Megatronus nodded.

"But hey," Rockslide said. "Come on, let's go to the energon hall. You've never been there, have you, Megatronus?"

Megatronus shook his helm.

"Well, let's go introduce you to everyone," Springer said. "Come on. You're a legend already. You killed the roc, then got pounded by Snarl and didn't die. That takes some serious 'beginner's luck,' mech."

They went back out into the hallway. Megatronus hit his shoulder on the doorway, and realized he was going to have to be a little more careful going through those now.

"They'll probably give you the codes for your door soon," Springer said. "As soon as they're sure you won't try to run for it. You can't, by the way. They keep really close watch on their gladiators. It's easier to escape as a miner than it is as a gladiator, trust me."

"Have you tried?" Megatronus asked.

"A couple of times," Springer said. "Everyone does. No one believes it at first. They all think they're going to be the one to make it out. I'm only warning you so I can say I told you so later. The only way out is to have serious connections on the outside. And I mean _serious_ connections. But it's not so bad here, for those of us who know what we're doing. We make them more money, so they don't want us to die."

They went through a set of doors and came out into a crowded room. Tables, gladiators, guards, energon dispensers everywhere.

"Hey, everyone!" Springer called, and the majority of the attention in the room was suddenly directed at them. "This is Megatronus." He said. "Our newest class alpha gladiator."

Megatronus felt mild interest directed at him from the rest of the room. He smiled, but didn't say anything.

Springer shoved him forward, and he stumbled, not used to his weight or height. "Go talk to mecha."

"Sure," Megatronus said, and went over to an energon dispenser. Someone at a nearby table called him over, and invited him to sit with them. It was easy to tell the gladiators from the guards. The gladiators were painted brighter colors, and had more ornate, usually spiky frames. Some of the guards were fairly large too, but not nearly as impressive, and they all had black insignias painted on their shoulders.

They seemed to be getting along with the gladiators, though, which was very different from the mines.

After a few breems, Megatronus found that talking to these mecha was _surprisingly_ easy—much easier than in the mines where no one wanted to talk to anyone else. By the time Springer dragged him away, he knew the designations of nearly every gladiator in the room, and several of the guards as well. He was a little over-energized, but Springer helped him find his room. He'd felt different for a while, like there had been something familiar about that room full of mecha, something comfortable. But he was tired, so he didn't think about it much before he slipped into recharge.


	11. The Price of Memories

"Ready n—ah!"

Megatronus slammed Springer to the ground.

"Hey!" Springer said as Megatronus let him up, backing away.

"Were _you_ ready?" Megatronus asked.

"Sloppy, Springer," Casurus said. "Don't let him take you by surprise like that. You know better."

Springer growled and lunged at Megatronus, who stepped to the side, letting his pedes guide him.

The first few decaorns of being a gladiator had been almost as bad as being a miner, but it had gotten better after that. He trained; he fought in the arena. He'd been here for almost thirty decaorns now, and he had only lost once more since Snarl.

Springer managed to pin Megatronus to the ground, but only for an astrosecond before Megatronus shoved him off and got up again.

They were nearly evenly matched at this point, which was a bad thing to let the supervisors know, because Megatronus still didn't want to be pitted against Springer. He'd seen a few of his friend's matches now, and knew that the casual, cheerful mech who helped him train was not the same as the Springer who fought in the ring. He was ruthless out there, vicious.

Springer kicked Megatronus's pedes out from underneath him and slammed him to the ground. Megatronus struggled, but Springer slammed a spiked fist into Megatronus's faceplate, and Megatronus went limp and waited for the other mech to let him up.

Springer backed off.

"Ok," Casurus said. "Megatronus, I know you like to pretend you can't feel pain, but that doesn't mean you're supposed to take every hit like you're invincible or something. You're not a wall, you're a mech. You've got a processor, so fragging _use_ it." The instructor approached as Megatronus finished getting up off the ground.

"There's some mecha out there who can hit harder than your fancy armor can take. And even the ones who can't can eventually break you down. Go again."

Springer attacked and Megatronus blocked twice.

"No!" Casurus said. "Move with him. Use his force against him. Don't even let him touch you if you can avoid it."

Megatronus tried to be faster, dodging sometimes instead of blocking, and moving with the heaviest hits to take the edge off of them.

Casurus watched silently for a few breems.

Then Springer made a mistake, and Megatronus threw him off-balance. The green gladiator managed to stay on his pedes, though, and they backed away from each other.

"Better," Casurus said. "Keep sparring for another quarter joor," He walked away, toward another pair of gladiators who were sparring on the other side of the arena.

"Hey," Springer said quietly. "Good job, mech."

"Thanks,"

"Let's try that again. Think of it more like a dance than a fight. Also, I think it's perfectly fine to take some hits. Your armor can handle a lot, and the crowd likes it better anyway."

Megatronus glanced after Casurus. "He might still be listening."

"Yeah," Springer grinned. "Creepy glitch."

"Dangerous games," Megatronus said, then rushed Springer again.

"My favorite," Springer dodged and attacked from the side, slamming his fist into Megatron's helm.

They sparred for the designated amount of time, and then stopped.

"Well," Springer said. "One of my friends has a fight in a couple of joors, so I've got to go ask if I can have a ticket. You have any questions for me first?"

"Not really. Do you have any advice for me?"

Springer nodded sagely. "Don't ever throw anything at the back of Casurus's helm."

"No?" Megatronus smirked. "Why not?"

"Somemech actually did that once, you know."

"I can imagine it didn't end well." Megatronus looked across the room at the instructor who was currently shouting at one of the newer gladiators.

"No," Springer said. "At least he died relatively quickly."

Megatronus shook his helm. "Who's your friend fighting?"

"That thing that killed Helmcrusher."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Springer said with a shrug. "Not entirely sure if I actually want to go watch that, but it should be interesting at the very least."

Megatronus nodded. Friends here meant something different than friends down in the mines. Friends in the mines were mecha who worked together to try to keep each other alive. A friend among the gladiators would chat pleasantly with you in the energon hall, but then wouldn't really care if you died in a fight. They might even kill you personally if you were pitted against each other.

Megatronus had killed a few times. The first mech he'd offlined in the ring was a gladiator who'd been known for ripping the spark chambers out of his opponents. Just a few orns before, that mech had killed one of Megatronus's casual friends from the energon hall. It had only seemed fair.

Springer left the training arena, and Megatronus watched him, considering. If he waited here someone else might come along and offer to spar with him. He had to train as much as possible.

Or he could practice flying for a while. They'd let him have an alt mode just a couple of decaorns ago, because he hadn't tried to run away. It was a nice, custom flying alt. It didn't have a lot of speed or stamina, but Megatronus liked it anyway. It wasn't like he was going to use it for any long trips any time soon.

He transformed and flew a few laps around the high-ceilinged training arena. Everyone had been surprised that he hadn't tried to escape. He'd told them that he just didn't know where else he'd go, but that was a lie. _Of course_ he would leave if he could, but he had listened to what Springer had told him in the beginning. If he was going to escape, he would need connections on the outside, and he didn't have any yet.

He got bored of flying in a circle after a few breems, and landed by the door, passing another small group of gladiators on his way out. He headed to the energon hall. He _had_ been making connections on the inside by chatting with the guards, the other gladiators, and occasionally mecha from the audience who found their way in. He figured it was a good start.

When he got there it was crowded and noisy, as always. He got a cube of energon and went to sit by some of the guards he knew.

Then he saw someone in the corner.

The blue mech was sitting by himself, sipping his energon quietly, and shooting dark looks at anymech who approached him.

Megatronus recognized him—of course he recognized him. He could never forget.

"Megatronus?" one of the mechs at his table said.

Megatronus stood and crossed the room. The noise and commotion of the energon hall seemed to fade out as he approached the lone mech. He lost track of anything else but a feeling of trembling hatred.

Finally, the blue mech looked up at him. There was no recognition on his faceplate, but he suddenly looked very small and frightened. As Megatronus approached, he scooted away, dropping his cube of energon on the ground.

"I… I'm sorry, is this your table? I didn't mean to…"

"Spiral," Megatronus said.

Spiral's optic widened. "How…" Then Megatronus saw the realization, the fear replaced with horror. "Megatronus…" Spiral whispered.

The room was silent.

"No!" Spiral got up, but Megatronus caught him before he'd even left the table and pinned him against the wall. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't kill me, please don't kill me."

Megatronus tightened his grip on Spiral's neck. "You should have killed me," he said quietly. "When you had the chance. Instead, you killed everyone else. Did you really think you'd get away with that?"

"No!" Spiral screamed. "Don't kill me! Please, I'll do anything! I'll do anything, just don't kill me, please, _please!_ "

Megatronus transformed his hand into a blade. "Perhaps you think I'm as much of a fool as you are."

"No," Spiral said. "No, please."

"Good," Megatronus said. "Then you'll understand." He drove the knife into the guard's chassis. There was a collective gasp from around the room, and a few cheers from Megatronus's friends. Spiral screamed, and Megatronus twisted the knife, listening past the screams for the satisfying sound of tearing metal. He felt energon drip down his blade to cover his arm. "Justice, Spiral," he said, whispering so even Spiral might not be able to hear. "That's all I want."

He pulled the knife out, and let Spiral fall to the ground, watching the energon spread. Then he knelt and stabbed him again, making sure to pierce his spark chamber. When he finally got up and turned around, the other mecha stared at him. Most of the guards turned and pretended nothing had happened. They were afraid of him. Good—they ought to be. He could do that to them, too, if he wanted.

If he got in trouble for that, he would deal with it. Spiral had needed to die, and it had felt good. Now Photodraft and Rivet and the others were avenged.

Megatronus left the energon hall, aware that he was making everyone nervous, and went to the wash racks to clean up before going to his room.

He had almost forgotten them. Until he had seen Spiral, he had nearly forgotten about his time in the mines, and all the mecha who had died there. He couldn't afford to do that.

* * *

They locked him in his room for a few orns. They didn't explain that it was a punishment, but they didn't have to. Megatronus understood the way things worked here.

They didn't let him out until his next match.

Different mecha fought for different reasons. Some liked the rush of killing, the feeling of energon on their hands. Others fought out of fear, because they didn't want to die.

Megatronus fought for the crowd. He loved the energy they gave off, the tense quiet when they couldn't tell who was winning, and the cheering whenever he got in a good hit. He tried to make his fights entertaining most of the time. Even when they were too easy he would draw things out, putting on a show.

But this orn, his spark wasn't in it.

Megatronus brought down his opponent—a large, toothy, creature that had speed, but was too wild to be truly dangerous. When he was finished, he raised one hand and the crowd shouted and raged. He waited for the cheering to die out a little, and lowered his hand.

"I have killed!" he shouted.

They cheered again, but it died out more quickly this time, so he continued speaking. "This is not the first or the last time, but this death is not on my helm! I am _not_ here of my own free will! I am a creature, like this one!" he rolled the monster over with one pede. "And we would do well to remember it! We would do well to remember this beast! Because it could have been any of you in this arena where I stand! Or it could have been any of you to fall where this beast fell!"

He could sense their confusion, their disinterest. They were here to see him fight, not to listen to him talk. So he turned around and walked away, through the doors that would take him to his room and the energon hall and the wash racks.

They were puppets, caged creatures. Megatronus suddenly found that he didn't like it. He didn't like the complacency, the praise and the pampering. He did not like the freedom he was afforded, that had tricked him into forgetting that he was a slave. That crowd had been shocked to hear a gladiator speak. They had paid to see him kill, not hear him talk. To them, he wasn't anything more than a mindless creature.

It had felt good to remind them of the truth.

* * *

He waited for someone to tell him that speaking was against the rules, but they didn't. His friends in the energon hall commented on it, and Casurus made fun of him for being a drama queen, but none of the guards or the supervisors said anything.

So the next time he fought, he decided to speak again.

This time, he was against another mech. He was the better fighter by far, so he had complete control of the crowd and the situation. He knocked the other mech to the ground a few times before getting in a good hit. While he waited for his opponent to stand up again, he looked up at the stands.

"I used to be a miner," he told them. "Do you know what it's like in the mines?"

The mech got up and rushed him, trying to attack while he was talking. Megatronus stepped to the side, and tripped his opponent again, sending him crashing to the ground. "You get up and they give you maybe half an orn's ration of energon. If you're not strong enough, someone else will take it from you."

His opponent jumped at him from behind, but Megatronus anticipated it and sent him crashing to the ground again. This time, he turned his attention back to the fight for a breem, blocking a few blows, then stabbing his opponent through the shoulder and backing away again. "You mine for energon crystals until your vents clog up and your joints crack, and then they march you back to where you started and you recharge for five joors, then get up again and have your half ration of energon. The cycle repeats over and over. If there's an explosion or cave-in, you have to hope you aren't injured, because if you are, they leave you there to die."

His opponent tried to get up again, but Megatronus shoved him down, planting a pede on his chest. "I knew some brothers down there—barely more than fledglings. Their creators had been in debt to Clench."

Megatronus raised his blade.

"Mercy…" the other mech said, but Megatronus shook his helm.

"No one showed them mercy." He drove down with the blade, but didn't pierce the other mech's spark chamber. The losing gladiator gritted his denta and didn't scream, shuttering his optics and waiting for the end. Megatronus understood. They were all waiting, all the time, for that final match, that final blow.

He pulled his energon-streaked blade out again and looked up at the crowd. They weren't quite as loud this time, because they were waiting for the end of the story.

"They died in the mines!" Megatronus shouted. "And I might be the only one to remember their designations. They could have been your creations, your sparklings. They were certainly not the only ones! What does one more death matter?" He raised his blade, and for the first time, he felt a little unease from the crowd just before the kill. So he lowered his arm gently and retracted the blade, then reached down a clawed hand.

The mech on the ground looked up, surprised, and took his hand. Megatronus pulled him to his pedes, and then turned and walked out of the arena.

Helios, one of Megatronus's friends, was waiting for him on the other side of the doors.

"Slag it, Megs, you're crazy," the other gladiator said.

"Maybe so," Megatronus said. "What I told them was true."

"They came to see a fight, not listen to someone talk about injustice. You sounded kind of like a glitched revolutionary."

Megatronus tilted his helm to the side. "Is there a problem with that?"

Helios shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Depends on what the pit you think you're trying to do. This probably won't help your popularity."

"I don't care," Megatronus said.

"You sounded like… I don't know, like you were challenging them. The supervisors, I mean."

You could challenge other gladiators to fights if you wanted to. They would rather you settle disputes where they could sell tickets.

"Did you hear about me killing that guard the other orn?" Megatronus asked.

"Mech, I was _there,_ remember? Have you blown a fuse or something?"

"You know, they punished me by locking me in my room for a few orns."

"Yeah."

"For murder."

"He was only a mining guard. What'd you have against him, by the way? It seemed serious. Did it have something to do with those mechs you talked about out there just now?"

"I was surprised at first, but I shouldn't have been. They reward us for murder, out in the ring."

"I don't know if that counts as murder, Megs." Helios said.

Megatronus shook his helm.

"Self defense?"

"No," Megatronus said. "Just because we're forced to do it, doesn't mean it's not murder. It's just not our murder. This goes all the way back to Clench."

"Like I said," Helios shook his helm. "You're glitched. Do not accuse that mech of murder. They might like you, but they're not going to let you get away with this sort of talking for too long."

"Because it's true," Megatronus said, then sighed. "I suppose I should be careful though."

"Slag, it's too late for that, look."

Megatronus looked down the hallway, in the direction Helios was pointing.

"That's my cue to leave," Helios said as Casurus came storming toward them. "See you, mech."

"Hey, Casurus," Megatronus said. "Something crawl up your tailpipe this on-cycle?"

Megatronus suddenly found himself on the ground, with the smaller mech kneeling on him, holding a knife just above his faceplate. "What the slag do you think you're trying to do?"

"I don't know," Megatronus said.

"Well, you can either knock it off or you can go to the pits of the inferno. And by that, I mean I'll kill you and send you there."

"All right, I get it," Megatronus said. Casurus got off of him, and walked away. Helios, who hadn't had a chance to escape, got out of his way, then went back to help Megatronus up.

"Yeah," the other gladiator said, "I still don't know why they don't have him doing fights. He'd be unbeatable."

"Two reasons," Megatronus rolled his shoulders, wincing. "One, it would be boring. He'd kill whatever it was before it had a chance to look at him. Two, he doesn't want to fight in the rings, and I'm pretty sure no one can make him do what he doesn't want to."

Helios sighed. "I don't even know if he's slagging real. He's like a pit spawn or something. But you shouldn't cross him. So keep your lip plates shut out there in the future, ok? I don't think he makes threats like that without meaning them."

"Didn't know you cared, Helios," Megatronus said. "Let's go to the energon hall."

"You're not going to listen to him, are you?"

"I don't know yet."

"Yeah, I think you're glitched. Hit your helm against the wall one too many times. Come on, let's see if some high grade will help."

"Sounds like a plan."

They walked together to the energon hall, where Megatronus was greeted by his friends, who were happy, but not particularly surprised to see he had won.

Helios went to get him some energon, while the few who'd seen the match teased him about telling bedtime stories to the audience while he fought.

Then a nervous-looking guard approached them.

"Megatronus," he said. "Can I talk to you?"

"I suppose..." Megatronus said, trying to remember if he'd ever seen this mech before. He didn't think they'd ever spoken to one another.

"Who's that," one of his friends said. "Your femme?"

"I don't have a slagging clue who it is," Megatronus said, as he pushed away from the table and followed this guard.

The mech took Megatronus to a table where several other mecha were sitting. Some of them looked like audience members.

"Hello," Megatronus said, feeling a little uncomfortable. He knew his friends were still watching him from across the room. "What is this about?"

"We heard what you said in the ring," the guard said. "We… all of us have lost mecha to the mines." He gestured around the table. "We were all in the audience… I don't actually know some of these mecha, but they wanted to come talk to you. We wanted to ask… if you're going to start something."

"Start something?" Megatronus sat down, interested. "Like what?"

"We want justice," one of them said. "A lot of us, not just us at this table. Clench has taken everything from us."

"You want me to start some sort of rebellion?" Megatronus said, raising an optic ridge.

"Maybe," the guard said.

Megatronus shook his helm, and nearly laughed. He had no idea how he would go about that. "I don't know how well that would work, mechs. See, you may not have noticed but I am a slave. If I start spreading rebellion around, and make myself more trouble than I'm worth, they'll just kill me. You can't lead a rebellion if you're dead."

"Mecha are still dying in those mines."

"So were they before I was there, and so will they be long after I'm offline."

"Not if we can stop it," one of the mechs said.

"See, I told you," another one muttered. "He's just spouting words, he doesn't want to actually do anything about it."

That bothered Megatronus. "Look, I hadn't been thinking of starting anything. I just wanted mecha to remember what a sham this all is," he said. "What sort of thing do you think I could start? I can keep talking in the rings, but…"

"We were already thinking about that," the guard said. "We could record you talking and distribute it. We could get people interested. If we make a plan for what we're going to do…"

"No one really knows what happens to those mecha who get sent to the mines," another mech said. "What you said…they'll try to pass it off as lies, but you've exposed them now. They might not like that. Do they really… just leave injured behind if there's an accident."

"Of course," Megatronus said. "If you can't work, what use are you?"

"Don't they... lose a lot of mecha that way?"

"There are always more where they came from."

Silence fell for a few astroseconds.

"See, no one knows that," the guard said.

"The guards in the mines know it," Megatronus said.

"They're slaves too," the guard said. "They don't get to leave the mines. They just… you know, did something to impress someone and got promoted from a worker to an overseer."

Megatronus hadn't known that.

"It's not legal, you know," one of the other mechs said, "Slavery. Neither are gladiator rings. You don't necessarily need to do any actual overthrowing or fighting, just get the message out that this is happening. The Council in Iacon can't ignore it if you make it known to everyone. We just… there just has to be someone mecha would listen to."

"Me?" Megatronus asked. "Why would anyone listen to me?" He had no idea what he was doing. He'd just been talking to spite the supervisors, to defy them.

"We listened this orn," the mech who'd said slavery was illegal met Megatronus's optics. "And not just us. Others listened. And we're the mechs who go to the fights, the worst of society. We listened, Megatronus, and we don't even care, not usually. But I've lost mecha to those mines, and Primus knows I'm not the only one."

"Fine," Megatronus said. "But if you're going to rope me into something like this, you're going to need to help me."

They looked at each other.

"Well, I'm in," the guard said. "I won't be able to recharge in the off-cycle knowing what happens down in the mines if I don't do something about it."

"We aren't the best of mechs," another one said. "After all, we all did have tickets to that fight."

"I'm not the best of mechs either," Megatronus said. "We don't have to be. In fact, it's probably better that we're not. This way no one else has to get their hands dirty."

They nodded.

"But we don't have plans," another one said. "We just wanted to know if _you_ did."

Megatronus glanced over his shoulder. "My friends are all staring at us. Why don't we talk some other time. I don't have any plans, but if I think about it, I might come up with some. You," he looked at the guard. "Think about plans too. And come talk to me next orn."

"All right," the guard said, with a kind of conviction and intensity in his optics that reminded Megatronus of Alloy.

Megatronus left the table and went back to his friends.

"So what was that about?" Helios asked.

"I'm not entirely sure. They wanted to congratulate me on my wonderful speech out there. I didn't know they haven't told the general public how they treat miners."

One of the other gladiators shrugged. "Oh well. They probably won't kill you. You make them too much credit."

"Right." Megatronus sat down. Someone passed him a cube of high grade, and he drank it, but wasn't really listening to the conversation. What had he just agreed to? He wished he knew.

But however it turned out, it was going to be more interesting than his life had been so far. He had been getting complacent. It was time to change the game a little. He probably should have been scared. He should have been afraid of Clench and the supervisors and the fights and Casurus and this daunting road that he'd just set his pedes on.

But he wasn't afraid, only excited. He'd been knocked down.

It was time to stand up again.


	12. To Stand

Megatronus stood over his fallen opponent. "Mecha of Kaon," he said. "This orn is an orn of arrival!"

The crowd had anticipated this. They cheered at the end of his sentence, but quieted quickly, because they wanted to hear what he was going to say next During his past six matches, he had told stories about the mines, and stories about the gladiator arena. He had told them the truth. The guards had beat him, the supervisors had threatened him, and Casurus had brought him within an inch of his life, but he hadn't stopped. He had told them everything.

If they really wanted to stop him, they could stop scheduling matches for him. They hadn't done that, though, because as time went on, they came closer and closer to selling out on seats.

This orn, every seat was full. Some of them came to watch the fight, but quite a few were here to listen to him talk.

They tried not to let anyone record his words, but someone always managed to do so, and then they distributed what he had said all over Kaon.

"I have told you about the mines!"

They cheered, but it was angry cheering because they knew now what the mines were.

"I have told you about the pits! I have told you about the slavery, the injustice, the energon of the innocent that flows through the tunnels beneath this city. These things should not be, and someone must answer for them!"

The crowd cheered.

"Someone must answer for the death! Someone must answer for the suffering! Someone must answer for the friends you have lost and the friends I have lost!"

The roar drowned him, then faded again, because they wanted more. They didn't just want empty words.

"We have pleaded with Iacon to help us but they are cowards!"

There was a cheer.

"We have sent to the Council, but they sit on their thrones and refuse to hear! We will continue to remind them, but eventually, their window of opportunity to step in will close, and we will take this city on our own! We are strong enough!"

Megatronus could not see it, but he could imagine the discussions going on at this very moment between the supervisors, and the guards, planning to drag him out of the ring, planning on how to punish him once this speech was over. He would need to wrap it up quickly or they'd come out here with their energon prods.

"I will need you to be strong enough! Strong enough to stand and fight with your fellow mecha, to fight for your friends and your sparklings and their sparklings, so that when they reach adulthood, this city will be free! That orn will come! That orn will come!"

They had spread a rumor that this time would be different. That he wouldn't be telling them a story this time. That this time, he would be saying more, that he would be calling them to action.

The doors opened and several guards came out, but Megatronus was finished. He turned and walked back toward the doors, toward the hallway within, toward whatever they'd decided to do with him this time. He had just declared war on them, openly and unashamedly. But they were making so much credit off of him, they wouldn't want to kill him. That was a thin ledge to stand on, but _someone_ had to do it, and Megatronus had never been afraid.

The guards encircled him. He was surrounded by energon prods and hostile, worried faceplates. He walked calmly among them. His speech would be distributed. His words would reach thousands of audio receptors. They would know that the rebellion was beginning. Soon, the world would know that this was beginning.

If they killed him, it was likely it would end before anything happened, but they stood to gain a lot of credit if they waited just a few more matches to offline him.

Just a few more matches, he was certain they were telling themselves. Hopefully, they would keep telling themselves that, and he could continue to speak.

They took him to his room, and forced him over to his berth. A couple of medics came in, and it took all of Megatronus's self control to lie down and let them magnetize him to the berth. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he imagined it would be painful. The guards backed up and stood by the walls, and then they waited.

A few breems later, a mech came in, followed by several more guards. Megatronus knew him, though they had never met. It was Clench himself.

"Ah, here's our little star," he said. "Megatronus, how are you?"

"Magnetized to a berth," Megatronus said.

Clench laughed. "Oh, you're great, Casurus said you had quite a bit of spark. I like that about you, you know I really do like that about you. Just one little thing, though." He came over to the berth and smiled down at Megatronus. "We can't have some sort of foolish uprising. If you get a little group of civilians to come and attack us, it could cost us millions in property damage. Now, I don't mind it so much if you tone it down a little. Mecha love hope. They'll pay quite nicely to come to a match and hear someone give a pretty speech that makes them feel all empowered and everything, but inciting riots is not a good thing. So, I'll give you a chance, see. If you want to keep giving your pretty little speeches you can, but nothing like how violent that one just now was. That was a little over the top, mech."

Megatronus looked at him, and Clench met his optics for a moment, still smiling, then looked away and spoke again.

"So I want your word you won't do something like that again. Oh, and I also need to know who you've been in contact with in the city. Oh, and your energon hall privileges are gone until further notice. So, first item of business, your word."

Megatronus nodded. "I give you my word I won't give any more speeches like that."

He felt no need to tell the truth to this murderer.

"Second, designations. I need the designations of your contacts in the city, the mecha who spread your propaganda around."

Megatronus made up some completely fake designations. Clench seemed surprised that he'd sell his conspirators out so quickly, but sent some of the guards to go make a list and hunt these mecha down. Megatronus hoped that no mecha with those names actually lived in Kaon.

"Well, that was easy," he said. "If you're telling the truth that is, which I don't believe you are. Hmmm… next orn, if I find out you were lying about those designations, you'll be fighting another match. Oh, one final thing I forgot!" He grinned. "You've fallen out of favor with me, my mech. I think it's time to make that official. See you next orn out in the ring." He turned and walked away, humming to himself.

Megatronus realized what he had been talking about a few moments after the door closed behind him.

The medics approached. Megatronus fought to keep his venting calm and peaceful. He shuttered his optics, and felt something pierce the plating around his neck. They injected something into him that paralyzed him, and shut down his voice box. He wished they'd put him into stasis, but they didn't.

Searing pain split his faceplate, and he wanted to fight, to scream, but he couldn't do anything. There was no outlet for the pain, just pain—rivers of it. He could feel energon dripping down the side of his helm, and down his throat, but couldn't move, or swallow or choke.

He couldn't scream.

If you fell out of favor with the mecha in charge, they cut up your faceplate. They made it symmetrical, decorative-looking. Megatronus had heard guards express jealousy over the patterns on one or two of the gladiators' faceplates, talking about how it must take serious bearings to get your face decorated like that, and how good it looked.

They must not have been told what it meant, or how they did it with you conscious. Megatronus hadn't known they'd do it with him conscious.

When they were finally done, they unmagnetized him from the berth, but he was still paralyzed. He heard all of them leave his room, even the guards.

Then he was alone, and he still couldn't move, and couldn't scream.

It took joors for whatever it was they had injected him with to wear off. By then, he wasn't in quite so much pain. He got up and stumbled to the door, where he had a small mirror. His face was covered in drying energon. He reached up to touch it, wincing as a section of it shifted under his fingers. It hurt like _pit,_ no matter what he did with his pain grid.

So he went back to his berth and lay down to plan, and eventually to recharge. They were going to let him fight again the next orn. It was meant to be a punishment, but it wouldn't be. Megatronus could fight through the pain without much trouble. And his condition would make the speech after the battle even more meaningful.

If they thought this would stop him, they were very wrong.

* * *

Megatronus had one pede resting on the dead beast in front of him. Energon flowed freely from his side, and one of his arms. He was exhausted. They had pitted him against three trained cats, and he was badly damaged.

"Mecha!" he shouted, venting hard, and trembling. He was glad that his voice was still strong. "Last orn was an arrival. We arrived at the beginning. This orn is about remembering! It is only by remembering that we will be strong enough to press forward! We have been hurt! We have been oppressed! We have been exhausted. We have fallen, over and over again." He felt energon dripping down his faceplate, and every time he moved his mouth, he felt things crack and shift as the motion disrupted his self-repair.

"We have been stolen from. We have been treated like so much scrap. We have been murdered and we have been threatened. We have been afraid! We have seen others punished for what we know we must do! But that does not excuse us from standing up. We must get up again, and again, and again. As long as we are alive, we must get up. No matter what they take from us…" He could feel part of his faceplate sliding out of place, and he reached up to push it back, shaking with pain. He looked down, dizzy, and nearly stumbled, but raised his helm again quickly, cursing the brief weakness he had shown. Weakness was not something he could afford to have.

"My mecha, we know that we should have a right to freedom, a right to safety. No one should have to live the way you live. And we can change things! It begins with remembering. Remembering your friends and family, your fallen loved ones. You fight for them, because _they_ would have wanted a better end for you, and for your creations because _you_ want a better end for them."

They cheered. Megatronus smiled up at them and raised a hand. "It may be long in coming, but we can endure until then. And when the time comes, we will rise together. I will do all I can to see that orn."

He lowered his hand, and turned around to walk out of the arena. The guards were waiting for him again when he came in the doors. This time, as soon as they closed, he let himself collapse. They had to carry him to his room.

He lay on his berth, leaking out on the ground, waiting for a medic to come and repair him. It was a very long time, and he was nearly in stasis by then. The medic magnetized him to the berth and worked on him with that same bored expression that most of them held. Sometimes, Megatronus wondered if the medics were really just drones with faceplates.

He had heard that most medics weren't like this.

When the medic was done, Megatronus slipped into a deep stasis-like recharge for a while.

When he woke, there was a cube of energon on the small table by the door, and the door was locked.

Well, at least they hadn't killed him. He drank the energon and sat on his berth.

His room was a little better furnished than it had been at the beginning. He had gotten a small mirror, and a table. When a gladiator died, all of his belongings were divided among the others. Most of the time, Megatronus didn't care. But he had at least wanted a table, and one of his friends had grabbed a mirror for him. Mirrors were reasonably rare. Springer probably had the biggest one.

Megatronus needed to go to the wash racks. Because he didn't have paint, energon corroded his armor, and at he was _covered_ in half-dried energon.

But he could wait. It was starting to itch, but not badly enough that it was distracting. Clench had said he had lost his energon hall privileges, but that was all right. He only needed to get in contact with his mechs once in a while. And he didn't think Clench knew how deep dissention ran through the ranks of the guards and gladiators here. Many of his friends were on his side too, though they all pretended to think he was completely crazy.

Eventually, after more than an orn, they came for him and took him to the training arena, where Casurus and Springer were working with one of the newer gladiators who showed promise. The mech seemed terrified, even though he was holding his own pretty well against Springer. That was what set Megatronus apart from the others. Maybe it was because he'd started in the mines. But then again, there were others who had started in the mines. None of them were fearless like he was. Maybe it was something from before, back when he couldn't remember.

He didn't think about that blankness much any more, or wonder where he came from. He'd decided that it didn't matter.

"All right," Casurus said. "Back to his room, we've got bigger cats to chase. Come here, Megsie."

Megatronus approached them.

"Oh, slaaaag," Springer said. "Megs, are you ok?"

Megatronus walked over to them.

"So," Casurus said. "You're decided on all this rebellion nonsense."

Megatronus nodded.

"Well then I'll stay out of it. Destiny's a glitch, isn't it?"

Megatronus frowned at him, but Casurus turned and laughed. "Don't look at me like that, mechling. Beat him up for me, will you, Springer?"

They both watched him go, and then were left alone in the arena.

"You need the wash racks," Springer said. "Come on."

The guards looked like they thought they should argue, but didn't want to get in Springer's way.

They let the two gladiators pass.

Springer chatted with the other mecha at the wash racks while Megatronus got all of the energon off of him. It was too painful to clean out the cracks in his faceplate, but other than that, he got himself clean. Then he followed Springer back to the training arena.

"Ok," Springer said. "So, are you really crazy, or just stupid?"

"Just crazy, I hope," Megatronus said. "You once told me my only way out of here was to have good connections out there."

Springer shook his helm.

"You know, I've invited you to join me before."

"I know you have. And I have absolutely refused, because it's madness, Megatronus. Even if this goes somewhere, the only thing you'll accomplish is to get a bunch of poor, innocent mecha killed. Is that what you want?"

"Poor innocent mecha are getting killed," Megatronus said.

"That doesn't mean you should encourage it."

"I am trying to _stop_ it."

Springer vented a sigh. "Maybe you're right, but I don't know… your answer's no. Casurus would probably kill me."

"He's the crazy one."

"Tell me about it," Springer said. "But I think he's just… I don't know, as messed up by all of this as we are. We're all messed up. This place does that to you."

"Did he used to be a gladiator?"

"Who, Casurus?" Springer said. "I don't know, probably. In any case, I'm not sparring with you right now, you look like you're about ready to pass out."

"I'm all right," Megatronus said, getting into a fighting stance.

"You sure?"

Megatronus nodded, and rushed the other mech.

* * *

Megatronus's door opened. He was a little confused, because he had a match in a joor. There was no reason to come for him right now.

A large enough group of guards to contain him came in, along with a medic.

It had been two decaorns since his faceplate had been torn up, and he'd only fought one match since the one right after that incident. He hadn't given much of a speech then. This time, though, he was planning to speak powerfully again.

"Get him on the berth," the medic said.

"I have a fight in a joor," Megatronus said.

"I know," the medic said coldly. The guards backed him over to the berth. He sat down, and they pushed him down flat. He didn't struggle, because he knew it was pointless.

The medic magnetized him to the berth, then got out a scalpel. He felt the blade slip in between the plating on his neck and cut some of it away. It hurt, but he kept from crying out.

Then he realized what was happening.

"Wait!" he shouted. "Don't…" his voice cut out in sparks and static. He tried to scream as there was a burning, wrenching pain in his neck, and then the medic was holding a small device in his hand.

And Megatronus couldn't speak any more.

The medic set the plating around his neck back in order, and they let him up.

He couldn't speak.

There was no way to make his mecha understand. They would think that he had given up, that he'd finally been broken. They would be wrong, but it would destroy the tentative trust he'd been earning from them.

Yet, there was nothing he could do. The medic and the guards left, and Megatronus got off of the berth and started pacing. Slag it, he should have thought of this. Of course this could happen. It was the most logical thing to do. If they didn't want him to talk, they could just take that ability away.

He tried, but it was like picking something up with a missing arm. He didn't have his voice box anymore.

He racked his processor to come up with a way to communicate with the audience without speaking, but could think of nothing.

Then they came for him.

They took him down the halls, and out to the anteroom that led out into the arena. There was another medic waiting there for him.

"Megatronus," he said. "Someone sent you this." He gestured to a box behind him. "Would you like me to install it before the match? If not, it can wait until after."

Megatronus couldn't ask what it was, but the medic bent down and opened the box to show him. It was an enormous gun. An arm cannon.

Megatronus hesitated, then nodded. It was a powerful weapon. He hadn't trained with it, but unless he was fighting someone very good it wouldn't matter.

The medic attached it to his arm. He tested it, trying to find a new center of balance as he waited for the doors to open.

He was ready when they did, or he thought he was ready. He stepped out into the ring. There, his opponent was waiting for him.

It was Springer.

A flicker of fear—just a flicker—danced for a moment in his core, but he banished it quickly and didn't hesitate as he approached.

Springer was not afraid either. He had a hard look in his optics and Megatronus knew the other mech wasn't going to go easy on him.

Megatronus heard the door slam shut behind him, signifying the beginning of the match. He and Springer circled each other. His new arm cannon probably wasn't going to help him here. If he could get up close and shoot quickly, he might be able do some damage, but by then, Springer was likely to have taken his helm off.

Instead, he slid his integrated blade out. Springer mirrored him, then attacked.

Megatronus defended himself, and the audience watched, quiet and tense. Springer hadn't lost in almost two vorns. He had the longest running record of wins in the history of the gladiator pits. They had thrown everything they had at him, and he had defeated it. Megatronus hadn't known what he was talking about when he'd made a goal of being able to beat him. He'd been fooled by the fact that Casurus was better than Springer. Springer was the best of the best.

Megatronus was almost evenly matched with him. But right now, he was certainly not in top form. He had an extra weight on one arm, and he'd just had something ripped out of his neck.

Springer forced him to the ground again and again, and Megatronus kept getting up. The crowd gasped and cheered and shouted, but for the first time in a long time, Megatronus wasn't in control of them. As the fight progressed, he fell further and further behind, until finally, Springer's blade slipped past his defenses, and Megatronus felt it penetrate his armor, slice through wiring and systems deep within his frame, and come out his back. The green gladiator shoved him to the ground and Megatronus lay still while Springer stood above him and the crowd cheered.

It hadn't been a fatal strike, and he wasn't afraid Springer would kill him, but he hated losing. Still… maybe it was better this way. He wouldn't be able to speak in any case.

He looked up at the sky above him.

No.

Springer pulled the blade out of Megatronus, and offered him an almost apologetic look before turning and walking away.

Megatronus waited for his back to be fully turned, and then slid his arm along the ground and fired the gun.

His blast hit the back of Springer's pede. Springer shouted and stumbled, and Megatronus got up, heedless of his glitching systems and the pool of energon he had left behind.

Springer turned, angry now, and Megatronus engaged him again. He found that stillness that let him balance, and filled it with the fire that Casurus's training had given him.

Springer answered with precision, strength and speed.

But Megatronus would never lie down and die. If he offlined, he would offline standing.

He stumbled once more, but then put his blade through Springer's shoulder, then through a place in his chassis that was close enough to his spark chamber to be dangerous. Springer fell to the ground, leaking heavily, and shaking with the effort of trying to get back to his pedes. He looked up and Megatronus met his optics and saw betrayal in them.

Megatronus raised his gun to point at Springer's faceplate. Springer didn't flinch, but Megatronus just smirked, then turned around and walked to the very center of the arena. The crowd waited for a speech, expectant, but Megatronus couldn't give them one. He raised his arm and shot into the air three times. Each time, the blast hit the energy shield over the arena and made a pattern of light across the invisible, but impassable surface. They could see it flash when he shot at it—that dome that let nothing in or out.

He was in an invisible cage.

When the light from the blasts had faded out, he left the arena. The crowd cheered behind him. He had defeated Springer. The greatest gladiator, possibly in the history of Kaon, had been defeated.

They could do whatever they wanted to Megatronus. They could take his freedom, or his voice, or anything else, and it wouldn't matter. If they took away his legs, he'd still find a means of getting up again.


	13. Connections

Following their fight, Springer seemed to avoid Megatrons. He wasn't openly hostile, but he made it very clear that their casual friendship was over. Megatronus didn't care much—he had other things to worry about.

He fought two more matches without his voice box. It didn't take long before mecha figured out what had happened. He heard that there was outcry, that mecha were complaining, lobbying, sending him replacements—which never reached him—and praying for him.

And then, just a few joors before his next fight, a smallish medic came in without any guards.

"Megatronus?" he said, looking nervous. "I… uh, I can give you your voice back, if you'll just lie down on the berth."

Megatronus nodded and lay down so the medic could magnetize him to the berth. Megatronus recognized this medic—he was one of the slightly more attentive ones, a mech who took care to be quick and efficient, and who would offline your pain grid before he did any serious repairs. He cut open Megatronus's throat. Megatronus shuttered his optics and waited for it to be over. It hurt, but it would be more than worth it if he got his voice back.

"All right," the medic said. "You try to talk, and I'll work on this, until I can understand you. I'm sorry this is just a patch job, it might not last very long, but I'll try to come back and work on it again later."

Megatronus tried to thank him but only sparks and static came out.

"That's right, keep trying," the medic said.

Since no one could hear, Megatronus started talking about the mines, about Photodraft and Rivet. He had left their designations out of everything he had said, in case Clench had their creators hunted down, but he used them now in static and sputtering, reminding himself never to forget them.

Eventually, what he was trying to say started forming into words. By the time he could speak, it was nearly time for the match to start.

"Thank you," he said to the medic.

The medic nodded. "Megatronus, you, of all mecha, deserve to have a voice." Then he left, and Megatronus waited impatiently for the guards to come.

It seemed to take forever, but finally they did come for him, and a few breems after that, he stepped out into the arena.

Only, there was no opponent. A little confused, he walked out into the middle of the circle, and looked around at the audience. They cheered, but it was somewhat half-sparked, as if they were confused too.

The door he'd walked through closed, and then, after a few astroseconds, the door on the opposite side of the arena opened. A buzzing, clanking sound like a thousand pieces of shrapnel hitting the ground filled the atmosphere.

Megatronus had heard that sound before, once in a while, in the mines, when he and the rest of the team were supposed to be recharging. When they heard that noise, everyone would wake up and stare nervously into the corners of the cavern.

He was about to find out why they were so afraid.

A swarm of tiny creatures flooded out through the doors, headed for him. The audience gasped. He heard screams as well as he faced the oncoming flood of scraplets. Core programming activated, flooding him with panic.

But he stood, watching them, mastering the fear until he was completely calm. The first scraplets had nearly reached him when he leaped and transformed midair.

They followed him.

He knew the dimensions of his cage, and turned around without crashing into the energy shield to fire into the cloud of scraplets. It was difficult to hit them, because they spread out instead of clustering. He managed to blast a few of them, but there were hundreds.

He bumped a few of them as he started spiraling around the edge of the shield. One attached itself to him and started gnawing a groove in his armor. Another bounced off and hit the energy shield. It sparked and dropped to the ground.

Hmm…

Megatronus couldn't land on the ground—it was still teeming with the things. They were starting to spread out through the cage too. He saw a few more hit the invisible walls and fall down.

A fall from too high would kill them. Scraplets were relatively weak and easy to crush.

Several more attached themselves to him.

Fine.

With a roar of defiance, Megatronus dove into the middle of the cloud. He heard screaming and shouting from the stands. He came out on the other side of the main cloud, and drove himself into the invisible barrier. Plasmatic energon screamed through him, and he bounced off, but all the scraplets fell free of him, stunned.

He hovered near the edge and waited for the rest of the cloud to come to him. They were stupid, really. Just tiny little mouths full of teeth. No processor, just hunger.

At the last minute, Megatronus dropped. Some of the scraplets didn't stop in time, and hit the barrier. They bounced off of him as he transformed again and landed on the ground. He shot the floor around him, hitting the scraplets crawling there. Then, when they overwhelmed him, he transformed again and flew through the cloud. He was going to need a whole lot of detail work done after this.

He flew through the thickest parts until he was covered in scraplets, and then crashed himself into the energon field to knock them out several more times. He lured them into hitting it, and shot them until all of his guns ran out of power. He stepped on them, crushed them against his stinging armor and mesh, and physically pushed them into the shield. Dead scraplets piled up along the outer edge of the arena, and still they filled the space. Megatronus wouldn't stop, though.

Slowly, the atmosphere cleared.

They had tried to kill him again, and they had failed. They could try again, and again, and Megatronus would never die.

Casurus was right. Destiny was a glitch. He crushed the last few scraplets with his torn and stinging hands. He felt as if his entire frame was on fire, but the atmosphere was empty and the tiny creatures on the ground were still.

The crowd screamed and cheered, and Megatronus raised both arms, venting hard still. The pain was all worth it for the triumph at the end.

Then he prepared himself.

"My mecha!" he shouted.

They heard him. His voice was scratchy and relatively weak, but they heard him, and then their shouting drowned out anything he could ever have said.

He stood, hands raised while they cheered, until it quieted enough that he thought they would be able to hear him again.

"You don't _ever_ have to give up!" Megatronus shouted. He had no time or thought for something profound. "There is no wall they can build that someone can't climb over. There is no fight they can rig that someone can't win. And there's no reason that someone can't be one of us!"

They shouted. He'd done two impossible things this orn. A scraplet, not quite offline, wobbled over and started chewing on his pede. Megatronus ignored it. "They must have decided I was starting to sound repetitive," he shouted, and was rewarded with scattered laughter among the cheering. "Because they took away my voice box. But they don't understand—I am not fighting them alone. Thank you for your support! I could never have won this fight without you all here! Care for each other and be patient! Our time will still come, no matter how hard they try to silence us!"

The doors opened and guards rushed into the arena. Megatronus didn't fight, but he didn't help either as they dragged him away. He didn't really have anything more to say, but that was all right, because the crowd cheered the whole time, and he could still hear them through the door after it closed.

They dropped him on the floor of the anteroom just outside of the ring. He didn't know if he was leaking anywhere, but he felt as if he'd been dipped in a smelting pit. A supervisor joined him. "Cut his neck open."

They shoved him to the ground, and he didn't have the strength to struggle as they cut the plating away from his neck. He'd thought the medics were harsh, but he hadn't realized the difference between harsh and just efficient.

The supervisor cursed, and one of the guards reached in and pulled on the voice box the medic had installed. Megatronus screamed, but the sound was cut off when the guards sliced through the cables connecting the voice box to his processor.

After that, they dragged him to his room and left him there, curled up on the ground.

After a while, they sent in a medic to patch up the damage the scraplets had done to him. It was the same medic who had fixed his voice box. He helped Megatronus up onto the berth, and put him into stasis.

* * *

When Megatronus woke again, the pain was gone for the most part. When he hesitantly tried to speak, he could. He sat up in darkness, surprised that he felt so well. Also that that medic had risked so much to do this. Did mecha really think so highly of his voice that they would risk their lives so he could keep it?

He would have to be careful not to talk until the next match, so that no one would take it away from him until he could use it again.

They brought a different medic in the next time they opened his door, and that medic checked him over, and then opened his neck. Megatronus was worried, but the medic didn't say or do anything, just put all the plating back in place, and left again.

They brought him energon several times, but didn't let him out, and the door was always locked. Unfortunately for them, Megatronus had some of the guards on his side. The mech who'd talked him into the rebellion in the first place, whose designation was Tollroad, was occasionally the one to bring him energon, so he could still get messages out.

The second time Tollroad came, he stepped in and closed the door.

"How are you?" he asked. "Can you talk?"

Megatronus was worried the room was bugged or that there was a camera, so he smiled and nodded slightly instead of saying anything.

"Ok," Tollroad said. "Here." He set the energon down with a folded piece of cloth under it. Megatronus nodded in thanks, and Tollroad left. The piece of cloth had information on it, about the number of mecha who had been reached by the words from his latest speech, and a few words of encouragement, and designations of guards who could help him if he needed it.

It was a long time before they let him fight again. Once he managed to steal a whispered conversation with Tollroad who told him that the mecha in the city were starting a boycott of the gladiator rings so they would send him to fights again. Even so, it was a long time, perhaps quartexes. Sometimes, on his own, Megatronus would talk quietly, just to be sure his voice box still worked. Either all the medics were on his side, or the medic who had helped him had put his voice box somewhere other than where it was supposed to be, because numerous medics had opened up his throat to make sure it wasn't there, and none of them had said anything.

Finally, finally, they let him back in the ring. He was out of practice because he hadn't been allowed to go to the training cavern. He'd done what he'd been able to in his room, but even so he was out of practice. If they'd pitted him against Springer again, he would have been offlined for certain. But it was a relatively easy fight, and afterward, he looked up at the audience and spoke to them, reassuring them that he was all right, and thanking them for their strength. He wasn't really speaking to the mechs around him, but to the whole city, the whole world. He knew there were mecha all over Cybertron who listened to him, in places that he had never even heard of.

He spoke as long as he could, before the guards came and dragged him away. The crowd didn't seem particularly happy about that.

They cut open his neck again in the anteroom, but couldn't seem to find anything to pull out. Megatronus grinned, even though it hurt, and they dragged him back to his room, and had a medic come in. Then there was almost a whole joor of rooting around in the top half of his chassis before they found the modified voice box, and removed it.

But he had at least two medics on his side, because a different one came in later, and gave him another replacement.

* * *

It went on like that for a while. Megatronus would sometimes be able to speak during a match, and other times he wouldn't. His voice had suffered in these past quartexes, and now it was barely more than a static-filled rasp. But whenever he _could_ speak, he said as much as he could before the guards dragged him away.

Despite his determination, the growth of his following slowed as time went on and he had nothing to show for it. They let him go to the training room once in a while, but nowhere else. He still had some friends among the other gladiators, but few were willing to openly support him or help him, and it was difficult to make plans in the occasional moments Megatronus caught with Tollroad. It was frustrating, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Meanwhile, Megatronus knew that Clench was making a lot of money off of him.

Then one orn, the guards came in, along with a supervisor. Three guards dragged Tollroad between them, and dropped him to the ground in the middle of the room. He was covered in energon, and barely conscious.

Megatronus stared.

"Megatronus," the supervisor said. "This is going to stop. Do you understand?"

"Let him go," Megatronus said.

"No," the supervisor replied. "This is going to stop."

"It won't stop," Tollroad said. "It won't stop until the system ends, until Clench is overthrown and…" he cut off with a gasp as one of the other guards rammed an energon prod into an open wound.

"Let him go," Megatronus repeated. "Or I will kill you. Maybe not now, but some orn. You can count on it."

The supervisor snorted. "I doubt you'll have a chance. Kill him."

They shot Tollroad and he fell to the ground. They let Megatronus watch him bleed out before dragging him away, leaving Megatronus alone with the blue stain of energon on the ground.

He sat in silence for more than a joor. There was only so much he could take. Only so much pain, only so much loss. If they continued to kill the mecha he relied on, he would eventually fall as well.

But not yet. Tollroad would have wanted him to keep fighting. Megatronus would kill that supervisor, and he would kill Clench. He would not let this stop him. A calmness came over him, washing the sorrow away. There was nothing, now, but determination. No matter how long it took, or how much went wrong, he would see that these mecha faced justice.

* * *

During his next fight, he talked about Tollroad, mentioned him by designation, described how he had died, and asked everyone to remember him.

After Tollroad's death, things got more difficult. It was harder to communicate with mecha outside the pits, and he felt as if things were slipping from his control again. He stopped speaking as much, not because he couldn't, but because he wasn't always sure what to say. He had a lot of mecha out in the city who would be willing to rise to fight at his command, but they weren't armed, and there weren't enough of them yet. Maybe there would never be enough of them.

He was given back some privileges, such as permission to go to the energon hall, and the training room. That helped a little, but even _with_ Tollroad, things had been starting to stagnate.

The most frustrating thing was that he had no way to personally communicate with the mecha who were following him. There was no way for him to know what resources he had, or how many mecha would rise up if he called them to action. He was in a cage, and until he was out of the cage, he wasn't going to be able to do anything for them.

They caught one of the medics who had been helping him, and killed that mech in front of him too. This time, to his surprise, Megatronus felt almost nothing. What did one more death matter? No one cared.

But he ought to, and it bothered him. Even though he felt apathetic about killing other gladiators, he shouldn't feel nothing about those mecha who were trying to help him.

One orn, after a long, painful fight, in which Megatronus had offlined his opponent, he stood and faced his audience.

"I will give you one last chance!" he shouted. "The more of us they kill, the more deaths are on your helms, and the more you have to answer for. I have appealed to Iacon. I do not know if my appeals have been heard. I do not know if my claims have been believed. This is the last! This is the last time I will ask for help and then patiently wait. If my words reach the Council's audio receptors, I will no longer beg for their aid. From now on, barring their immediate assistance, we are on our own."

He trudged out of the arena and to his room, where he lay on the berth and waited for darkness to claim him, or a medic to come and heal him.

Then he heard something. A scuttling sound, and a soft clang. He sat up. "Who's there?"

Silence. Megatronus turned the lights on and got painfully to his pedes.

There was a datapad on the desk. Hesitantly, he approached and touched the screen. It lit up, displaying a message. Megatronus picked up the datapad and took it with him to the berth to read.

[Megatronus,

My name is Orion. You don't know who I am, and I've never met you, but I've listened to the speeches you've given. I live in Iacon, and I've heard that you've tried to appeal to mecha here to look into the mines, and the problems there.

One of my friends was on the Council, and working toward sending someone to Kaon to look into it, like you asked. However, he's gone now. We don't know where he went, but we don't think we're going to be seeing him ever again.

Corruption is not just in Kaon, where you are. It's here too. Everyone knows good mecha who have disappeared because they said the wrong thing to the wrong government mech. It may not be as horrible as what happens down in Kaon, but it's just as wrong.

My friends and I would like to start a resistance movement in Iacon, but we don't really know what we're doing. None of us has ever done anything like this before. We're just a few students, a library clerk, and a professor, and we don't know what direction to go in, or how to proceed, but we're tired of standing by while every good mech around us disappears.

I know it might seem presumptuous of me to ask for your advice. But I've heard your message and I also believe in a better Cybertron than we have now. I admire and appreciate all of the sacrifices you've made, and how hard you fight for the liberty of the mecha in Kaon, and I can't think of anyone else who I could ask for this.

If you would respond, and maybe offer us a little counsel on how to begin, and how to proceed, we would be very grateful. My friends and I are willing to do whatever it takes to fight the corruption in society, and we would appreciate any sort of response you send.

Thank you for the time you've taken to read this letter, thank you for your hard work, and thank you for your uplifting words and the messages you share with the world. There are mecha everywhere who listen to you and find the strength to fight in the things you say. I know I'm not the only one.

Your humble listener,

Orion Pax]

The End

* * *

Notes/Acknowledgements:

1\. Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

2\. As always, this story would be a mess without my ever faithful beta readers, who alerted me to its many flaws so that I could attempt to eliminate them.

3\. Springer will show up again in later stories. Casurus (the crazy gladiator trainer) will also make an occasional appearance. Just so you know, there may be more to him than meets the eye. ;)


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